


FFXV: An Unofficial Novelization

by Glaurung_II



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:07:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 49
Words: 187,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22416751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glaurung_II/pseuds/Glaurung_II
Summary: Novelization of the entire story of FFXV. A chronological account of the events recounted through several media, and as close to the main events as possible. There will be no OCs, but expect extra scenes and additions, always as close to the canon as possible, so those who never played the game can have a faithful telling of the story, while those who did play it will find something entertaining, although with some surprises.Finished Story.
Comments: 33
Kudos: 37





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter will deal with a whole expossition of the Chocobros and the world surrounding them as presented to the player at the start of the game. I tried my best to have an entertaining summary of the events of 2000 years prior to the main story withouth having an info dump worthy of a History text book.

* * *

__

_“There is nothing either good or bad,_

_but thinking makes it so.”_

William Shakespeare.

* * *

**PROLOGUE**

When the world of Eos was formed, the Astrals were tasked to protect it from all threat, even if the danger came from themselves. They were Titan, the god of earth, Ifrit, the god of fire, Shiva, the goddess of ice, Ramuh, the storm god, Leviathan, the goddess of the sea, and Bahamut, the god of steel, who ruled over all.

Humanity struggled during those early times, and Ifrit took pity on them. He admired their determination and inventiveness, so he gave them the secret of fire and became their patron deity.

Shiva, however, despised humans. She saw only pitiful, weak creatures that shivered in the cold and were devoured by the beasts of winter, lacking talons or fangs to defend themselves. She let Ifrit know of her disdain for such creatures, but the fire god didn’t listen to her.

However, it was Ifrit’s kindness to humankind which swayed Shiva’s heart. She learned to love humans and, in turn, love Ifrit himself.

The civilization which rose under Ifrit’s reign was later called Solheim, flourishing as they extended their influence on the land, and reached technological and scientific advances unparalleled ever since. In time, humans grew conceited and rose against their patron. Angered by their hubris, Ifrit struck them, intending to punish Humanity with total extinction.

Following their oath to protect Humanity, the other five Astrals battled Ifrit and his minions in what would be called “The War of the Astrals”, thousands of years before our story begins. Though the gods never fully revealed themselves to humans, they did so during the War in the form of gigantic creatures, though Humanity only saw the great calamities sweeping Solheim: Tidal waves, earthquakes, relentless thunderstorms, blizzards and, on the peak of the conflict, a meteorite which was invoked. Titan avoided its collision with the land by holding it on his shoulders, but the rippling shock wave created great chasms and landmarks, still visible millennia later. After this cataclysm, the technological and scientific advancements of Solheim were all but lost, and Humanity was set back to a pre-industrial era.

Ifrit was defeated by Bahamut himself, and laid to rest in Ravatogh Mountain, which would be turned into a volcano by Ifrit’s dormant body. The other Astrals also went to sleep, each one in a different place in the world, with Titan holding the Meteorite on his shoulders. Bahamut alone did not fal into sleep, but disappeared.

After the Meteorite’s crash, a strange plague started spreading over the land which people called the Starscourge. The infection made people averse to sunlight, they forgot their kin and friends and, in the end, their bodies twisted and transformed into monsters, or, as they would be called, Daemons, which thrived in darkness and died under the light of the sun.

The Astrals had seen the plague that came from the Meteorite and, as they went to sleep, they fashioned a sacred Crystal. This device would serve as a way to communicate their will to humans, as an oath of protection against the Starscourge. They also created a Ring that would link the Crystal to a man handpicked by the gods, from whose bloodline a Chosen King would be born. That Chosen King would be the one to wield the Ring’s powers in full and banish the Starscourge, ushering the start of a new era. It was decreed that the noble House of Lucis would be the ruling family, and that its heir, Somnus Lucis Caelum, would be the First King. Lucis’ capital, Insomnia, was built by him, and named in his honor. The Gods’ blessings allowed him and all with whom he shared his powers to conjure weapons from thin air and cast magic, in order to help protect the Kingdom and the Crystal.

Along with the Chosen King, among the maidens of the kingdom of Tenebrae, Bahamut chose the most virtuous of them and named her the Gods’ Oracle, the one who would serve as the bridge between divinity and Mankind; he bestowed upon her the power to alleviate the Starscourge among the afflicted ones, and her family, the Nox Fleuret, would rule Tenebrae. The title would pass from mother to daughter and, should an Oracle pass away without an heiress, the power would go to the next female in the family.

Thus began a period of waiting. During two thousand years, the line of the Lucis Caelum saw great kings and governors who accomplished many heroic feats. At their side there was always an Oracle, carrying out the duty of guiding the King of Lucis and travelling the land to ease the suffering of those infected by the Starscourge. A magic Wall was erected, and it encompassed the entire Kingdom of Lucis.

However, the nation of Niflheim started coveting the Crystal and rose in arms against Lucis, inciting a war which would last over a century. Niflheim, under the guide of the Aldercapt line, started to investigate Solheim’s ancient magiteknology, wanting to reach the same prosperity the Crystal had bestowed upon Lucis. Territory after territory was annexed by Niflheim during the following decades. Though Lucis still sustained the Wall, all other lands were left unprotected.

At some point during the last decades of the war, the nation of Niflheim suffered a great catastrophe: For reasons unknown, Shiva awoke from her sleep and the Niflheim army rose to defeat her at Ghorovas Rift, outside Gralea, the empire’s capital. Her corpse lay in the fields of that country, turning the climate icy cold. A great crisis hit the land, with the inhabitants blaming the ancient gods for their failing crops and dying animals. To make things worse, the Starscourge plague ravaged the outer provinces, turning them into no man’s land, which had to be sealed off to contain the daemons within.

Niflheim intensified its attacks on Lucis, its magiteknology suddenly becoming more powerful than anything Solheim had ever achieved, and it kept conquering more territories as its robotic soldiers swept the land like a blight.

As Niflheim grew in power and Lucis tried to contain it, the then King Mors the 112th had to scale down the Wall to invest more power in his soldiers, leaving all lands save the Crown City unprotected. Prince Regis traveled to the Protectorate of Accordo to negotiate a treaty to limit Niflheim’s expansion, accompanied by four close friends: Cid Sophiar, who was Regis’ personal mechanic; Cor Leonis, the youngest member of the Crownsguard; Clarus Amicitia, his bodyguard; and his friend Weskham, who suffered a serious injury on the journey and remained in Altissia after they signed the treaty. He would stay there for the next thirty years, managing a restaurant.

However, the war intensified and King Mors died unexpectedly. Regis, now king and in charge of the Ring of the Lucii, pulled back the troops stationed in Altissia and other lands, but did not enlarge the Wall to cover again the lands outside Insomnia, despite him being younger and having more life energy than his father. This decision to keep the city sealed caused Cid to voice his protest against Regis’ treatment of the outside world, and especially of the refugees who had fled the Starscourge and the war; he left the city, cutting all ties with the royal family and Insomnia. Nevertheless, he settled in an abandoned gas station a few kilometers outside the city and founded a repair shop, the Hammerhead.

The two nations had reached a standstill, and thus the War unofficially ended. The Empire functioned as a large and powerful nation outside the Wall of Lucis, while Lucis thrived on its isolation. Refugees fleeing the Starscourge and the Empire’s control kept arriving at its doors, seeking asylum, but finding none most of the time. The few privileged ones who could enter Insomnia faced racism, poverty and further isolation, for the population feared that they were imperial spies, adding to the social tensions already boiling inside the city.

During those thirty years, Regis married and had a son, Noctis Lucis Caelum. Sadly, Queen Aulea died when the Prince was just an infant, and Regis saw himself having to raise a son all by his own, while tending to the war and his kingdom.

Noctis grew up to resent his father, whom he seldom saw, thinking that he didn’t care about him. When he was eight, the convoy transporting the young prince outside the city was attacked by a marilith, a half-woman, half-snake daemon. King Regis appeared and wounded the monster, driving it away.

King Regis couldn’t go too far from the Crystal, and never for a long time, since his own life force was the one sustaining the magic Wall. He took a great risk when saving his only son.

Noctis had suffered a severe wound which bound him to a wheelchair and would change his character from a bouncy, cheerful child to a shy, pensive one. For days on end, the King sat at his bedside and took care of his son, and Noctis’ affection for his father finally grew and took root. Once Noctis could move around, even if only in his wheelchair, Regis decided to send him to Tenebrae, still a friendly state to Lucis, untouched by the Empire. The Queen of Tenebrae and Oracle received them as honored guests, even if the visit was an incognito one. There Noctis met the prince and the princess: Ravus, the eldest son (twelve years old), who looked down on the sickly young Lucis prince, and Lunafreya (nine years old), heiress to the Oracle, who took nursing Noctis back to health as her personal duty, one she would carry out willing and cheerfully.

Noctis made a speedy recovery, if not physically, at least in mind and spirit. He and Luna became fast friends, due to the girl’s warm character and caring nature, and they would spend most of their time together, even sleeping in the same room.

When Noctis suffered the attack and lay at Death’s door, the gods had spoken to Regis via the Crystal. Bahamut had made his choice: Noctis would be the Chosen King, the one who would vanquish darkness from the land and usher in a new future. Regis was devastated. His first impulse was that of overprotecting his son, but the Crystal showed the King a future where Noctis had to make a journey and did so alone. Int aht vision, Regis’ son wielded the Ring of the Lucii with great ability, but there was something else attacking him aside from daemons, and that force played with Noctis’ mind, eroding it until it broke down and he himself was lost to darkness.

That was why Regis took great pains over introducing his son to durable, strong friendships, so that his bonds would grow, not out of servitude, but out of love.

Lunafreya was the first of such bonds. Noctis grew very attached to her during their brief visit to Tenebrae, and he would listen attentively whenever the girl instructed him about Ancient History, the Lucis’ royal line, the Oracles and the Six, and what her own mission would be as the future Oracle of the Chosen One.

Nevertheless, their stay in Tenebrae was a short one. While Tenebrae’s royal family celebrated a gathering with their guests, the Empire invaded. The Oracle was murdered trying to protect Ravus from the fearsome General Glauca, always clad in a magitek armor which covered his entire body. Regis, knowing that his powers were not strong enough while he sustained the Wall from afar, grabbed Noctis and Luna and tried to escape. Seeing that she would slow them down, Luna let go of Regis’ hand and decided to stay, while the other two fled to safety.

The nation of Lucis was powerless to protest against Tenebrae’s invasion, and became another protectorate of the Empire, with the Oracle’s children under the direct care of imperial generals. At fourteen, Luna was the youngest girl to reach the title of Oracle ever recorded, and so began her incessant travel through the land, always accompanied by her personal handmaid, Gentiana, and her two dogs: the male Umbra and the female Pryna. Those companions were nothing but Messengers of the gods, tasked with the protection of the Oracle.

Luna’s prayers kept the Starscourge at bay, curing as many of the infirm as she could, but not erasing it completely. Her warmth and kindness won the populace’s love, and so the empire guarded her from any harm, despite her status as a hostage.

Ravus, however, grew resentful of both King Regis, whom he blamed for his mother’s death, and Noctis, whom he thought too feeble and weak-willed to wield the power of the Crystal.

In later years, King Regis surrounded his son with reliable, strong companions. He had excellent judgment, but the strongest bond, perhaps, happened by chance in the form of a schoolmate.

When Noctis was twelve, he had a chance meeting with a boy who attended the same school. He was a quiet, overweight boy, only interested in electronic devices. His reserved character, however, wasn’t the result of bullying; other kids were nice to him, but he was very aloof, only caring about his digital camera and the photos he took of anything he fancied. That boy's name was Prompto Argentum.

One day, on his way home from school, Prompto saw a white puppy trying to walk down the street, but limping from a wound on one of its hind legs. The child, who had a caring nature, dressed the wound with his own handkerchief but, seeing that the pup couldn’t still walk, he took it home.

His parents weren’t any concern when taking in homeless animals. They were always away on business trips and they kept a cold and distant relationship with their son. Since there wasn’t anyone around to cook a proper meal either, Prompto sustained himself with junk food, hence his obesity.

The child gave the puppy a bath, fed it and tried to take a photo to post flyers in case the owner was looking for it, but the puppy spilled the plate of milk on him as soon as Prompto tried to take the picture.

For some days, he took care of the puppy he had come to name Chibi. The kid felt happy to finally have someone waiting for him at home, and he hastened to his place every day, instead of dallying with his camera until sunset.

One day, however, Chibi was nowhere to be found. Prompto searched everywhere, and even went around the neighborhood screaming the puppy’s name, but Chibi never appeared.

The days that followed were the most depressing ones in Prompto’s short life. However, one day he found a handwritten letter in his mail. It smelled of perfume and it read as follows:

_Dear Prompto,_

_I hope this letter reaches you in good health. My name is Lunafreya Nox Fleuret. I believe you are the one who found my dog, Pryna. My heart was heavy with the thought of losing her, but we were happily reunited, thanks to you. You have my gratitude._

_I had sent Pryna to see Prince Noctis. You are friends with Noctis, aren’t you? I heard he’s usually too busy to play with his schoolmates, so I suppose you don’t get to see him very often. Regardless, I hope you can continue to be a good friend to him._

Prompto couldn’t read more of the letter. He was over his head with all that had happened, and with the knowledge that this girl he had never met counted on him for something. And no other than Lady Lunafreya Nox Fleuret! So he armed himself with courage, and decided that the next day he would go talk to Noctis.

The Prince always spent recess on his own, in a corner of the school’s courtyard where construction materials piled up and no kid would go to play. He was a solitary child who liked to spend time on his own, and he was tired of the constant interrogations of other girls about his servants or about the palace.

Prompto slowly approached him. In doing so, he tried to jump over a construction barrier, but he was too clumsy and fell face first on the ground. Noctis ran towards him and offered his hand, asking if he was all right. Prompto mistook the gesture and offered his camera instead, but Noctis laughed: “Not that,” he said. And he helped Prompto to his feet. But the boy was very heavy and Noctis, without malice, said so as he helped him, never letting go of the kid. The bell signaled the end of recess, and Noctis said goodbye before the other could react.

The truth was that Noctis’ words had struck something inside Prompto. He suddenly became self-aware of how he looked, and thought that he couldn’t be Noctis’ friend while he was so fat. So he took to asking his classmates for advice about running. He then went on a strict diet, taking a photo of himself every morning to see the progression, and always taking out Luna’s letter from the special box he had stored it into every time his will to run faltered.

Fast-forward three years, Prompto was a thin, athletic young man about to enter High School. The first day of class, he approached Noctis and introduced himself as if it was the first time they saw each other, but Noctis smiled, recognizing the wristband Prompto always wore on his right wrist and said: “Don’t I know you?”

That’s how their friendship began, and how Prompto started calling Noctis “Noct”, as every close friend would later do.

The next bond to form was Noctis’ Shield. At the age of eleven, the Prince began training as a weapon master. As future King, he would need to be able to wield the weapons summoned with the power of the Crystal, and thus he would have to train and master each discipline.

The one appointed for this task was Gladiolus Amicitia, the son of King Regis’ Shield, Clarus Amicitia, and the next Shield for the future King. The lad was less than thrilled: Noctis slacked off often, he was haughty, slow to learn since he put next to no effort in it and, to Gladio’s chagrin, he was a picky eater. Even if Gladio was some years ahead and his mentor, he had no actual power over the Prince, and Noctis only endured training to obey his father.

Gladio had a younger sister: Iris, who was five at the time. She would poke fun at Gladio each time her big brother came home, and would always ask endless questions about the Prince. She felt a childish fascination with royalty, and wouldn’t let her brother alone about it. Gladio, however, thought of the Prince as a “spineless brat who would never be King”, and that he would never be the Shield to such a wimp.

One day Gladio was called to the Palace’s entrance. Iris was there, demanding to see the Prince. He started telling his sister off, but she wouldn’t budge, a strong will was a family trait. Their uncle, who worked as a butler, saw no problem with it and they took Iris to a room to wait for the Prince to be summoned.

This room had an exit to a greenhouse garden. The child was staring at the greenery, something she had only seen in the park and in photos, when a cat scurried between the plants and out of sight. Iris, being so young, for a moment forgot about her appointment with the Prince, and went in pursuit of the cat.

For his part, on his way to the appointment, Noctis walked along a corridor with direct access to the greenhouse garden. He sensed movement through the corner of his eye and he spied the cat and a little girl pursuing it. The maid accompanying him didn’t notice, so he abruptly left her side and went running into the garden, yelling over his shoulder that he was going for a walk.

Iris kept following the cat, which entered a ventilation duct, followed a narrow tunnel and went walking over the piping, always with Iris right behind him.

The tunnel opened to a slope just outside the Palace in a hidden area of the park. Iris ran, trying to follow the cat, but the animal quickly lost her among the trees. The sky was darkening with oncoming rain, and the artificial lights began to shine. At one point the girl tripped and fell rolling down a muddy slope. Knowing herself lost and with no way back to the palace, she sat down and cried.

Noctis knew about the tunnel, since it was a route he often took to get out of the Palace without adult supervision (something that was strictly forbidden), and he had an idea of how dangerous it could be for a little girl. Not knowing her name yet, he just called for her when he was out of the tunnel. During the time they had spent inside the tunnel, heavy clouds had gathered over the city and now it was raining hard. The poor girl fell into his arms when they finally found each other, and Noctis asked for her name. Putting a finger to his lips when the girl was calmer, he told her that the exit to the park would be their little secret. She then became worried that her “big bro” would be mad at her. The Prince asked again what her big brother's name was, and was taken aback when he heard that it was Gladio.

Back at the Palace, Gladio was furious at Iris and yelled at her in front of the Prince, but the King’s arrival cut the scolding short.

When Gladio confessed that his sister was the one to have caused such uproar at the Palace, Noctis said that it had been his fault, that him had asked Iris to go outside with him to play. Gladio was pale with fury, but said nothing in front of the King. Regis, however, reminded the Prince that, as a child of royalty, he was in no position to leave the Palace without permission, and that he might have put Iris in danger. For that, the Prince was grounded and sent to take a shower before going to bed.

That night, at the Amicitia’s home, Gladio was relieving some stress with push-ups, when Iris confessed in tears that it had been her fault for chasing a kitty and getting lost. Gladio didn’t believe her since he was already prejudiced against Noctis, but when Iris burst into tears, he saw that his sister was telling the truth.

The next day, Noctis was in his room, writing a project for his tutor as part of his grounding. Gladio, now softened towards the kid, suggested they go work out, since the training room was still inside the Palace’s premises, and technically that wouldn’t break the rules.

During that session, Gladio parried with ease Noctis’ attacks and, as usual, he sent him face first to the floor. The kid was frustrated, as always, but that time he didn’t call for a recess.

“You still have a long way to go,” said Gladio, going to sit at his side. “But… you got guts. Iris told me the whole story.”

“What story?”

“The real one, where you covered up for her,” then Gladio bowed to him. “Thank you.”

Noctis, being a timid child, just stuttered a weak “You don’t need to…”, though Gladio didn’t let him finish.

“But that doesn’t mean I will go easy on you,” he said. “You have a lot to learn before you’re king.”

“Then teach me,” said Noctis, interested for the first time in his training.

They resumed their drilling, and from that day on Gladio could see an improvement on his pupil’s development. Not as fast as he would have liked, but the Prince took a liking to fighting.

Despite how confusing his behavior had been at first, Gladio soon understood the reasoning behind Noctis actions: As the Prince, his persona was all but sacred, yet Gladio had permission to physically punish him during training and many a session ended up with Noctis bruised and on the verge of tears, despite the training armor. In his eleven-year-old mind, Gladio was nothing but a brute with absolute power over him so when Iris, much younger and smaller than Noctis, seemed to incite Gladio’s wrath, the Prince stepped forward to shield the little child. That was exactly the attitude Gladio expected in a future king.

What Noctis didn’t know, and Gladio never said, though he knew the prince would find out with time, was that Iris was the most precious person in Gladio’s life. Not once in his life did he ever think about raising his hand against his little sister, and his bad temper had come from worrying about the prospect of any harm coming to her. That natural protectiveness of the elder brother had been nurtured and fostered by their father, who always saw that the two siblings had a stronger bond between them than with him.

The last bond that was mentioned was the very first King Regis helped in forging: It was that with Ignis Scientia. If Gladio would act in the future as his bodyguard, Ignis would be Noctis’ personal retainer, something the young, bespectacled boy took extremely seriously, even at his young age.

One of the abilities Ignis acquired over the years he spent taking care of the Prince was that of cooking. He practiced so much that when he reached adulthood he managed to make Noctis eat whatever he prepared, as long as it didn’t contain carrots. One of Ignis’ personal projects was to recreate a sweet Noctis remembered from his stay in Tenebrae, a pastry stuffed with cream and fruit jam, but it took a long time for poor Ignis to do so, because it was a process of trial and error, based on some vague recollections from the Prince.

When Noctis entered college, he moved to an apartment in order to learn how to live on his own. However, each time Ignis visited he was welcomed with rooms cluttered with trash and empty cups of instant noodles. On one of those days, he cleaned up the apartment and set up to prepare a healthy dinner for the two of them. When Noctis arrived that evening he was wasn’t very pleased that Ignis had rearranged all his mangas and imposed some order on his bedroom, but he said nothing and sat down to have dinner.

After supper, Ignis served the sweets he had baked that morning. They were very good, as Noctis said, but not quite the thing.

Since the Prince was in the middle of his exams, Ignis went away right afterwards to give him time to study, but not before taking Noctis’ shirt to sew a loose button, reminding him to close all the doors (balcony included), take out the trash, giving him a war report he had to read, and reiterating that if he couldn’t prove himself capable of living alone he would be moved back to the Palace. Noctis just nodded like any kid would do with his mother, and Ignis went on his way.

The next day, Ignis, as secretary to the Council, attended a reunion where the King’s advisors were discussing the Empire’s increasing activity, with the empire's recent annexation of Galahd. Their distress was evident with reports of new, stronger imperial weapons being tested, and Lucis’ magic having been inhibited during battle.

After the meeting, Ignis ran into the King in one of the corridors. Regis asked about Noctis, and Ignis expressed his concerns about the Prince’s diet and his abilities to live on his own. The King just chuckled Ignis’ concerns away and thanked him for taking care of his son. Ignis made a reverence, but couldn’t help noticing that the King had to walk with the help of a cane.

“Has the Wall taken such a toll on Your Majesty?”

“It would appear so,” Regis smiled. “Only the King can create the Wall and protect his people,” he said, looking through a nearby window to the city below. “If something foul were to befall me, the heir of Lucis must take the throne. But I’ll end this war before that.”

Those words kept repeating in Ignis’ mind that night and, stoic as he always was, he couldn’t help feeling concerned about such a cryptic assertion.

The next day, as Noctis and Prompto walked back home from their first day of exams, Prompto noticed a giant screen airing some news where the King was featured. It had been weeks since Noctis had seen his father and, though he knew that the Wall he had erected was speeding his aging and turning his hair white well before his fifties, he was aghast to see him having to walk with the help of a cane.

That night he returned home later than usual, having spent the evening at the arcades instead of studying. Ignis was at his home, with a new batch of pastries and a suitcase filled with war reports.

“You are late,” he said when Noctis entered the living room without saying a word. “I thought your exams ended before noon.”

“I was at the arcade,” he replied in surly tones before plopping on the sofa.

“Did you study for tomorrow’s test?”

“Why’re you here?”

“I brought your uniform,” Ignis said, impassible before Noctis’ sour mood. “Have you read the report?”

“No.”

“I suspected as much,” Ignis sat himself at the dinning table. “It doesn’t look like you have touched it.

“The war with the Empire might have ended 30 years ago,” he continued. “But we cannot let our defenses down just yet. The news is being regulated, but we receive reports of local skirmishes from time to time.”

“I know,” grumbled Noctis as he lay on the sofa.

“Thanks to the King and Wall, though, Lucis has been able to enjoy peace for the last 150 years. As a king must sacrifice his strength to create the barrier, His Majesty has avoided the public eye to concentrate solely on the Wall. However, it seems as if he has lost the ability to summon weapons. Are you listening?”

“Do we have to talk about this now?”

“If not now then when? You are the successor to the throne and someday-”

“My dad’s going to die?” Noctis raised his voice for the first time during the evening.

Ignis lowered his eyes.

“I didn’t…”

“That’s what you’re saying!” Noctis sat down, furious. “When my dad dies, I have to be the King!”

“Shouting won’t change the truth-”

“Then I don’t wanna hear your _truth_!”

After a few tense moments, Ignis, still with an impassible mien, stood up and took his suitcase.

“I see you won’t listen to reason,” he said as he went to the door. “But you ought to at least think it over.”

Out of frustration, Noctis grabbed one of the sofa’s cushions and threw it across the room. For his part, Ignis, once in the car, and after having closed the vehicle’s door a bit harder than normal, finally let out a deep sigh of exhaustion as he leaned over the steering wheel.

Patient as he was, Noctis’ behavior escaped his understanding. Ignis had always been one for order and discipline, ever since he could remember. Decisions were easy to take for him, provided he had the necessary information, and duty wasn’t a matter of feeling or personal preference. One did it, and that was all. In Ignis’ world there was no place for ambiguity.

That King Regis was going to die was a fact. A painful one, nonetheless, but it was inescapable, and one could only react to it. Emotions were logical in such situations, but it unnerved Ignis how Noctis let them carry him away. It was unbecoming of someone with so much responsibility on his shoulders, but Ignis could only do so much.

After a while, and when he could collect his thoughts, Ignis started the car and made his way back to the Palace.

The Prince spent the next afternoon with Prompto at the arcade. Normally quite good at videogames, Noctis wasn’t having a good time getting constantly killed at his favorite machines. Even his friend noticed his frustration.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “Did ya bomb the test?”

But before he could answer, someone approached them: a tall, big guy with sportswear and a gruff voice.

“Shouldn’t you be in school?” the guy asked in a menacing tone.

Prompto jumped on his feet.

“We were just heading home!” he squeaked.

Noctis, however, wasn’t scared of the man. He was surprised, instead, about seeing him in a place like that.

“Gladio?”

For some reason, his instructor had come searching for him. He said that Noctis had been skipping practice lately and that he could use an extra training lesson at the Amicitia’s home.

Back at Gladio’s family backyard, Noctis was having the same luck with his practice sword as he had with the videogames, and he stopped the practice.

“Hey, you can’t give up already,” Gladio scolded him. “The King’s counting on you.”

“I KNOW!” Noctis screamed.

Seeing that something was amiss, Gladio sat down with him in the grass.

“I know,” the Prince murmured before finding his voice again. “I know. I can’t become king like this. But… I don’t wanna think of my dad dying.”

Sometime later, during that same afternoon, Ignis had gone to the training room at the Palace to vent some of his frustration. Even if he had specialized in fighting with double daggers and spear, that afternoon he practiced fencing with a heavy sword, which he wielded with almost the same ease, if only to wear himself out more quickly.

As he exited the training room, he saw that someone was waiting for him.

“Noct’s been slacking off lately,” Gladio said casually.

“Was he with you?”

“Earlier, yeah. If he tries to skip out of training again, bring him by.”

“Certainly,” Ignis said, but then he sighed. “But… I never know what goes on in that head of his. I sometimes wonder if he ever understands his position.”

Gladio chuckled.

“Give him a little more credit than that.”

A few days later Ignis drove again to Noctis’ home to check on him. The apartment was as clean as he had left it the last time, which was very strange.

“Is something burning?” he murmured when he caught the smell.

Ignis had noticed the stench of burnt food as soon as he stepped out of the elevator, but couldn't suspect the source was in Noct's apartment. He found in the kitchen the remains of several failed attempts at cooking, among which was an almost ruined pan. Noctis’ class notes lay scattered over the table, filled up with annotations and diagrams.

The Prince arrived at that moment. He said nothing when he saw Ignis, averting his eyes, as if not wanting to say a thing, the echoes of their previous fight surely still ringing in his ears.

“Did you cook?” Ignis asked.

“Tried to,” the Prince said, still not looking at him.

A few seconds passed, and Noctis turned around.

“Hungry?” he said, as if nothing had happened, even if he sounded definitely a bit dispirited.

“Regrettably,” Ignis lamented. “I didn’t bring anything today.”

And so they ended up eating instant noodles, which went against every single one of Ignis’ culinary and nutritional principles.

“Not bad, once in a while,” he commented, despite everything.

“So… which trash does a frying pan go in?”

“It’s not trash yet. I’ll bring the proper cleanser next time.”

“Thanks.”

Noctis kept eating, but Ignis had stopped, gazing at his cup.

“I spoke out of turn last time,” he said suddenly.

“Last time you almost had it.”

“You mean the sweets?”

“I could definitely go for some more,” Noctis mumbled. Ignis knew the Prince wasn't angry anymore. Too many things were being pushed his way, maybe more than what a young man like him could bear alone.

“Very well,” he simply said.

The remainder of the diner was spent in silence.

Thus was formed Noctis’ retinue, three men who would guard him with their lives, if needed. Despite his royal blood, Noctis always treated them as equals, and the four young men formed unshakable bonds, stronger than blood.


	2. The Siege

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Due to the site numeration and management of chapters, there will be a discordance between the title given by the website and what I write. The Prologe was intended to be an unnumbered chapter, or "chapter 0", while this one is intended to be the first chapter from Book I. From now on, both the book's title and the intended chapter will be written at the start of every entry. Sorry for the inconvenience.

**BOOK 1: KINGSGLAIVE  
**

**CHAPTER 1 – THE SIEGE**

After the annexation of Galahd as an imperial province in the year 746 of the Modern Era, King Regis formally invited all those willing to fight against the empire to live in Insomnia and join the Kingsglaive, the elite unit recently formed to protect Lucis.

For more than ten years, the Kingsglaive fought against the Niflheim Empire on an already losing war, but the hope in their hearts to free their homelands from the imperial yoke was enough to give them strength.

By the year 756 M.E., twelve years after the invasion of Tenebrae, the frequent skirmishes between Lucis and the empire had intensified to a worrying level, and Lucis suffered defeat after defeat, as the Kingsglaive saw their magic failing at critical times, while the magitek troopers seemed to grow stronger. To the already powerful mechanical soldiers and tamed beasts, the empire added the help of domesticated daemons, which swept the battlefield as soon as darkness arrived.

One of the disputed landmarks was a natural bridge over a chasm left by Meteor, which had hosted a strategic settlement, vital to enable supplies reaching the outer provinces.

The battle had been raging for an entire day, and the sun was already low on the horizon. That was the imperial strategy: to draw battles as much as possible, draining the enemy, until it was time to release the daemons. The glaives resisted over the city’s wall like a seawall before a tempest. Waves of ahrimans, giant insect like creatures, tried to cut into their defenses.

In the central section of the wall, Tredd Furia blasted another monster out of the battlements with a lightning bolt.

“All units, move to secure the wall. If they break through, we're done,” he said through his radio before jumping down the wall and skewing another beast. He then launched his kukri and warped to cleave a second ahriman in two.

At the east wall, Libertus Ostium hid behind a pillar while MTs approached. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for his assault. He then grabbed his kukri and cast an invisibility spell. Quickly and silently, he rushed forward to wait for the advancing soldiers. He took three by surprise, slitting their throats with ease. Two other he electrocuted with a lightning bolt, and he casted a barrier spell to evade the bullets from the remaining one.

“What’s the hold-up, Crowe?” he screamed through the radio as another magitek soldier joined his companion.

At the top of the ruined citadel, a small squad of five Kingsglaive gathered their magic powers, summoning together a firestorm over the enemy. Their leader was Crowe Altius; she had handpicked the companions who would help her cast the spell, one of the most powerful known to them, and also one of the most costly, both in time and energy. Crowe was a short-tempered woman, and was about to snap at Libertus for breaking her already compromised concentration, when another voice crackled through her radio.

_“Crowe? Status!”_

That was their Captain, Titus Drautos. She held her tongue and just said “Almost there!”

Thick, black clouds swirled over the battlefield, broken by the red lightning crackling inside. One of her companions fell, unable to sustain the tremendous effort the spell required of them. Crowe removed her cowl in frustration, letting her messy, brown hair free. Grinding her teeth, she put all her mental strength on the spell, her reddish-brown eyes shining with fury.

Thunder boomed over the frontline now, as the magitek armors, walking war machines, launched a volley of missiles which landed behind the wall.

_“I need help, east wall is going down,”_ came Tredd’s urgent calling over the radio. _“Pelna, can you get to me?”_

Pelna Khara could barely talk as he ran from an ahriman.

“Lucis isn’t paying us refugees enough…”

He ran over the remains of a fallen building as he shot a lightning bolt to the ahriman hot on his trail, and jumped just in time for the monster to ram into it, pulverizing the rock. Pelna was already waiting for it, and he landed on top, thrusting both kukris through the beast’s shell.

“…for this!”

Another volley of missiles, which this time hit the wall. A tower exploded and Pelna warped just in time to cast a barrier spell to protect a fallen comrade from the rocks. A roar made him look behind them and, out of the cloud of dust, a behemoth came charging forward, its enormous horns aimed at them.

“How is this fair?” he protested, trying to scramble to his feet.

A light blinked at the beast’s side as another glaive warped, sinking his weapon into its throat and using his momentum to slit it almost from side to side.

As the behemoth fell heavily to the ground, the glaive removed his cowl and smiled at Pelna.

“Nyx, I owe you one.”

“You and everyone else,” the newcomer replied, hiding behind the remains of a wall as the behemoth drew its last breath. Those beasts were hard to kill, and it wouldn’t be the first time an overconfident glaive or hunter had been killed by a dying one.

Nyx Ulric was the best fighter the Kingsglaive had ever seen, only exceeded by their Captain. Unlike his companions, he hailed from a long line of hunters, and already possessed a kukri before joining the Kingsglaive. He followed the Galahdan custom or wearing his trophies to battle: His uniform was customized with a horn at the side of his cowl, a purple scarf, shoulder guards made of a giant lizard’s skin and a pelt or blue-gray fur from a coeurl over his left arm.

_“We need support on the east flank,”_ they heard Tredd’s voice over the radio. _“Nyx, are you there?”_

“I’m on my way,” to his companion he said: “Pelna, fall back and regroup with the others.”

“Go easy on the magic, hero,” Pelna warned him as Nyx advanced to another wall. “You got people waiting for you back home.”

“I’m worth the wait,” he quipped before warping away.

Tredd saw the flash of light from afar and smirked.

“Show-off,” he murmured with a smirk.

Libertus had gotten rid of the soldiers and now he had to contend with the ahrimans. He cut in one swipe the legs which threatened to impale him, to then cast a lightning bolt. The beast kept attacking, and Libertus cut another leg, this time using it to stab that monster in the head, finishing it off.

_“Watch your back, Libertus. We got more incoming,”_ said Tredd over the radio.

He took off his cowl and looked beyond the ahrimans. More behemoth beasts were approaching.

“We ain't gonna last much longer,” he said, seeking refuge behind a collapsed wall. “Crowe!” he called at the top of his lungs, as more monsters rushed past his position.

Now only four Kingsglaive remained at the top of the tower. Crowe’s fierce expression lighted up with a cry of triumph as the vortex of fire finally formed, sweeping the battlefield.

_“All glaives, fall back. Repeat, all glaives fall back!”_ Tredd ordered.

The glaives did as ordered, but the fury of the storm knew no allies. Many were swept away alongside the monsters and the MTs, some others could warp to safety just in time. Libertus, knowing himself out of the storms’ range, collapsed by a torn down building. Nyx remained in the area, waiting to see anyone in need of help.

At that moment, the sun disappeared. Night had come and, with it, an ominous cry filled the battlefield, echoing over the raging storm. Many of the glaives, which had remained at the wall and were gathering their strength and congratulating each other for a battle well fought, sprung to their feet. They all knew what those cries meant.

Beyond the firestorm, six assault crafts slowly emerged from the dust and smoke, carrying something with them. As the cloud dissipated, they saw a giant form tied down and apparently dormant, dangling from the crafts. It was one of the unnamed horrors the empire had created, neither a machine, nor a living thing, and its size could easily dwarf that of a small city.

Surveying the imperial lines, a human officer gave the order: “Release the daemon.”

As soon as the officer gave that order, the giant daemon raised its head and roared. It flailed its arms, sending the crafts crashing to the ground and into their own troops.

The battle wasn’t over. The glaives prepared for another assault, maybe the last.

With the giant daemon came other beasts: Three-headed hounds, bigger than behemoths, with hides as hard as tempered steel and maws which spewed fire and brimstone.

The giant daemon rammed against the firestorm, making it falter. Crowe and her companions tried to resist, but the daemon entered the fire vortex without suffering any damage and covered it with its body, interrupting the flow between the storm cloud and the ground, and dispelling the tornado. Crowe was the last one to fall on her knees, looking with dismay at the battlefield. Her magic had failed.

The abomination doubled up until it’s front claws touched the ground and, opening the monstrous maws on its shoulders, fired away.

The missiles flew in every direction, hitting both enemies and allies with the strength of an entire army. A rocky formations above the bridge exploded; the falling debris took the bridge down with it. As the glaives fled, their radios crackled, and an authoritative voice gave the order.

_“We can't take down that daemon,”_ said Captain Drautos _. “I'm ordering a full retreat. Get back here alive. That's an order. For hearth and home.”_

Libertus ran while keeping an eye on the falling rocks. However, that single act made him trip. It was a miracle that the rock he was trying to evade only trapped his leg. He screamed in pain, trying to free himself, but the rock was too heavy for him, and his kukri had fallen out of his reach.

Nyx heard his friend’s voice and stopped in his tracks, hiding behind a wall as he tried to see where Libertus was.

_“All units, fall back to the extraction point. Support is inbound,”_ said someone from Command.

“Nyx!” he heard a voice calling him from his right. It was Tredd. “We have to get out of here!”

But Nyx was only listening to Libertus crying out for help.

Tredd grabbed Nyx by the chest.

“We have orders!”

The glaive grimaced. He wasn’t listening to either Tredd or Libertus. He was hearing his younger sister's screams. How many years had gone by? Ten? Eleven? He had an old photograph pinned on his wall to never forget either his mother or his sister’s faces, yet he could still hear her voice calling for him, clear as day. He could hear her while training, or walking down the street, and sometimes he woke up in the middle of the night with that sound ringing in his ears. And each time he regretted being unable to save her.

Now Libertus was the one in peril. It wasn’t the first time they had needed each other’s help, and it wasn’t the first time Nyx disobeyed a direct order to save the only person he had known since he was a child and could treat as a brother.

Shaking his head, he pushed away the screaming Tredd and ran towards Libertus.

“Oh, that idiot,” he murmured.

Atop the tower, glaives were evacuating the mages, Crowe had seen Libertus falling under the rocks, but she didn’t have enough strength left to resist Pelna dragging her away.

Libertus heard a roar nearby and, forgetting his pain, looked over the rock.

“You gotta be kidding me,” he said, as a three-headed hound approached him.

A blue light flashed at his side, and he saw Nyx warping until he landed atop the center head. The other ones snapped their jaws at him, but couldn’t reach the glaive and, as he raised his blade to deliver a killing blow, the tail lashed and sent him crashing into a wall. The hound tried to bit at him as he fell, but Nyx warped upwards again, out of the beast’s reach. The daemon threw a fireball that the glaive dodged and, as he took a defensive pose, the giant hound turned its attention towards Libertus.

A group of ahrimans had surrounded Libertus. One of them rammed its body against the rock trapping him with such force it sent both the rock and Libertus flying. Nyx warped and skidded underneath the ahriman, cutting its legs and blasting it with a lightning spell. He then ran to Libertus, taking the glaive’s kukri and putting it on his hand.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. You know I ain't got the stomach for this crap,” his friend protested as Nyx helped him up.

“Would you rather walk? C’mon. Just like Galahd Canyon back home.”

The hound roared, the three heads spilling liquid fire and preparing to attack.

What neither of them had noticed was that the bridge they were on was slowly falling apart after the giant daemon’s attack. The hound was the first one to feel it, jumping just in time as the ground started giving away under its weight. However, when it landed beside the glaive, the terrain crumbled again, and it didn’t have time to jump a second time.

Libertus and Nyx warped to safety and, as the daemon’s howls grew fainter, Nyx looked up to see the titanic beast. It had crossed the gap and was heading directly towards the wall they had been defending.

Atop the tower, Crowe still wrestled with Pelna, but her whole body froze when she saw the horrible head of the monster emerging from the cloud of smoke and dust, with a single red eye on its center. The creature opened its maw and roared.

**xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx**

At the rearguard, medical support was already treating the wounded. Luche Lazarus waited. He hadn’t seen combat that day, being amongst those in charge of strategy. He liked that. There was no rank in the Kingsglaive, save that of their Captain, and being in charge of anything made him feel as if he could accomplish what other branches of the army denied to those not born in Insomnia.

He passed a nervous hand through his blonde hair. One minute the giant daemon had nearly crushed them all, and the next, imperial ships were surrounding it, binding it, and dragging it away.

A military van stopped nearby, and another glaive opened the door for Captain Titus Drautos to step out of the vehicle.

One of the three greatest and strongest warriors of Lucis, Drautos easily towered over every other glaive. Luche stepped aside as the Captain strode past and extended his hand to him.

“Luche, report,” Drautos said, as his subordinate handed him the binoculars.

“The imperial forces look to be withdrawing, sir.”

The Captain saw how the assault crafts and the dreadnoughts retreated, carrying their nightmarish creature with them. It was time for the Glaives too to gather their things and go home.

When they had started this campaign, there was a sense of mirth and accomplishment after the first skirmishes. Every glaive had run away from their occupied lands, and knowing that the fearsome imperial army could be challenged was enough motivation to keep their spirits up. In recent months, however, morale had changed. The empire had found ways to tame daemons and to suppress the King’s magic. The latter wasn’t done very often, but the possibility was always there, and the Kingsglaive had to learn how to fight in case they were stripped of his powers.

They ended up fighting only to survive, and considered a battle where they could go back home as a win. Smiling faces turned into grimaces as they became aware of how futile their efforts were, and an increasing resentment against Lucians began to grow. However, they kept fighting, for no one else would do it in their stead, and they needed the King’s magic.

While many of his companions helped the injured or just sat heavily on the ground to rest, Nyx glanced one last time to the now quiet battlefield, and the dark cloud the empire had left behind to cover their tracks.

“Guess I owe you another one,” Libertus told him as other comrades carried him on a stretcher.

“I’ll put it on your tab,” Nyx joked. “Just try and get some rest.”

He saw how they loaded his friend in a van, with Crowe fussing around him. The rock had broken his leg and the girl had been at his side ever since Nyx could drag him to camp. Despite how many times she snapped at them, Libertus and Nyx had been the first ones to welcome her when she was admitted into their ranks. They considered her as their little sister, though Nyx knew that Libertus’ feelings ran much deeper than that.

Slowly, the vehicles made their way out of the camp, one by one. Weariness had fallen over them, and few words could be heard, save for the orders barked by the ones in charge. The silent truth was that the empire had toyed with them, like a sated cat with a mouse it wouldn’t eat. Only the Captain seemed unfazed. Then again, few things seemed to perturb his stern expression.

Nyx sat tiredly at the rear bumper of the van he had been assigned to, waiting for his turn to return home. He heard heavy footsteps approaching from behind, but he didn’t have to turn around to know who it was.

“You disobeyed a direct order to retreat,” Captain Drautos’ firm voice said at his side.

“For hearth and home, right, sir? As long as I got strength in my body, I obey that order.”

“Don't fool yourself, Nyx Ulric. Whatever strength you have is on loan from the king. You are nothing without him,” Boots scrapped rough terrain. The voice began moving away. “Await details of your reassignment.”

One of the things Nyx didn’t remember with fondness about his homeland was the rapids near his village. They were harsh and unforgiving; challenge them at your own risk, but your only reward would be escaping with your life. They had been there since before Galahd existed and would be there still when the empire disappeared, unfazed and unfeeling. He sometimes thought Drautos was very much like those rapids, especially during the time the Captain had been training him. It was like crashing against a concrete wall. Few things moved that man, either to one side or to the other, and sometimes Nyx wondered if he was human at all.

He knew his stay in the Kingsglaive had been questioned because of his free spirit, especially during the very first months, so many years before. Drautos had been the one to, according to the man’s own words, “tame the wild coeurl that boy is”. He had been successful, at least in part. They had reached an unspoken arrangement in which Nyx would be given enough room to operate, but in turn, Drautos was twice as harsh towards him as with anyone else in the Kingsglaive should he fail.

That was why he never argued with his Captain. No matter what kind of assignment Drautos might send him in, it was better than seeing how daemons ate his best friend alive.


	3. Terms of Peace

**BOOK 1: KINGSGLAIVE**

**CHAPTER 2 - TERMS OF PEACE**

The journey back home was a silent one. Nyx shared the van with his closest companions who were mostly lost in thought. Tredd, however, made good use of the first rays of sun to shave his face with his kukri, holding his phone as a mirror. His bright red hair now shone like a halo of fire around his head. Pelna, for his part, curled up on his bench and quickly fell asleep.

Insomnia’s gates opened to admit the convoy. The sight of the city didn’t do much to lift their spirits. The main streets were clean and well kept, as were the buildings. The sunrise tinted the walls with a pinkish tone, and surprised the late revelers from the poorest districts still with a bottle in their hands. That was the duality of Insomnia: one clean, pristine image, a reality that only Insomnians knew, and the cluttered, shabby abodes of all those who fled the war, finding only suspicion, crime and misery.

However, there was one fact that linked all districts together, and it was the ever-present giant statues of the Kings of Yore: Twelve in total, all made with the fabled adamantium, which was said to be the perfect conductive for the King’s magic. No matter where you were, there was always one nearby.

After a very short briefing at their Headquarters, they were dismissed by their Captain, who went straight to the Palace to give his own report to the King and Council at the Throne Room.

“We are at risk nonetheless, your majesty,” Clarus Amicitia, the King’s Shield, said. “We cannot know when they will strike again.”

Before Regis could answer, an attendant rushed into the room.

“Your Majesty!” he cried, almost out of breath. “Word from the West Gate! A man claiming to be an envoy of the empire requests an audience!”

A diplomatic offer couldn’t be turned down in their situation. An escort was sent after the King dismissed Drautos, and they waited for this emissary to arrive.

The heavy doors to the Throne Room opened. There was an air of dread inside, which not even the clear light coming through the glass windows could dispel.

“Hello there!” the emissary bellowed as he strutted inside, flanked at each side by heavy armored guards. His cheerful, unctuous demeanor was all the more jarring in the heavy silence of the room.

The emissary was a tall man, taller than the soldiers escorting him and, though he appeared unarmed, his manners were those of one who felt at home wherever he went.

His clothes were far from ordinary or inconspicuous. Instead of the white and red full-dress uniform of the imperial diplomats, the King and Council welcomed a man dressed in dark colors. He wore a long, black coat reaching to his ankles with leather epaulettes, the only detail which might hint at a possible military training. Attached to the coat’s shoulders, a long, silver and black scarf, which also doubled as a hood, trailed behind him. The coat, unbuttoned, revealed a white, pleated, high-collared shirt and red cravat, an expensive deep green waistcoat, pinstripe trousers and leather gaiters which protected his heavy, black footwear.

He was a sort of mixture between a traveler and a courtier. Few insignias could be seen, except the one which signaled him as Chancellor. He wore no other adornment, save for a wide brimmed hat and a single, leather black wing covering his left arm.

So taken were the members of the Council by the strange man that none of them noticed how the King clutched the arms of his seat, or how he almost jumped from it when he saw him.

“Hello!” the emissary kept saluting everyone as he swaggered his way down to the stairs leading to the throne. “Good day to you, and to you! Well met, my dear Lucians!”

Now that he had come closer, they could see him more clearly. He was a man in his prime, redheaded, green-amber-eyed. His harsh facial features seemed to be set in a perpetual mocking grin. His stubble contrasted with his costly and well-kept attire, and his overall get-up and lack of weapons and escort gave him an air of both sharpness and carelessness: a dangerous man.

“Has Niflheim grown so bold that they send the Chancellor himself as envoy?” Regis said slowly, his composure regained. “And with no guard at all?”

“It is an honor to be recognized by the Great King Regis,” the emissary declared. It was difficult to discern whether his bombastic manner was a bad attempt at being obsequious, or mere mockery. “Permit me to stand on ceremony and introduce myself nonetheless.

“Ardyn Izunia, Chancellor of Niflheim,” his voice echoed in the room as he raised his eyes to Regis and took his hat off, bowing deeply. “At your humble service. And I come to you on this most auspicious of days to offer terms of peace.”

“Peace?” Regis repeated in a strained voice.

“As you no doubt surmise,” Ardyn continued, idly walking towards the stairs. “That recent maneuver of ours was no strategic retreat. Call it,” he put his feet heavily on the first step. “A gesture of imperial goodwill.” He kept ascending to the landing where highly-honored guests were received. “Like you, we wish nothing more than to bring a swift end to this senseless war.”

“Is that so?” Regis made an effort to keep his facial expression as neutral as possible.

“It is indeed! And we require but a single compliance,” Ardyn smirked. “Save your grand Insomnia, Lucis must forfeit all territories to Niflheim rule.”

All members of the Council turned their heads in alarm to their King, but he raised his hand, commanding silence, a badly restrained snarl forming on his lips.

“Ah, Insomnia!” Ardyn gestured with his arms open, looking at the room around him. “The jewel of the crown of the Lucian Kingdom!”

Despite his unruly youth, King Regis had learned to keep a calm and composed semblance in the face of adversity as he grew older. All the willpower he had mustered that morning for that audience vanished the moment he heard the name of his beloved city in the Chancellor’s lips. Regis’ eyes blazed with fury, and everyone in the room held their breath. Save for one man.

“How foolish of me to forget!” the Chancellor lamented. “There is one more, trivial thing,” he smiled ever so slightly. “It concerns your son.”

The rage abated, replaced by surprise and fear.

“The fetching Prince Noctis of Lucis and the fair Princess Lunafreya of Tenebrae, they are to be wed!”

Regis sat upright again on his throne.

“You seem vexed, Your Highness. I assure you, the Princess still holds you in the highest regard, as she has done all these twelve long years.”

No one in the Council understood why the King’s only answer was to dismiss the Chancellor and assure that his words would be pondered over. He was silent during most part of the emergency meeting he held afterwards while his advisors quarreled over the situation.

Some advisers were in favor of the treaty, if that meant the end of the war. The glaives weren’t enough to defeat the Empire, and an agreement would mean salvaging what they still had. Others said that they had no use for an army inside the Wall, and that, if needed, they still had the Old Wall.

Clarus Amicitia was against any agreement with the Empire, since they didn’t know the real plans of Niflheim and reminded his colleagues that no wall is completely impregnable.

“The paths left to us are few,” Regis said at last. “The new Wall draws its power from the throne. I am able to sustain it for some years yet, if the kingdom requires it. But the chancellor spoke one truth, if only one. We are old, and the Old Wall...,” he said, raising his slightly trembling hands. “I cannot command the Old Wall with a weakened hand, nor do I have the strength to muster an offensive to turn the tide on this war.”

“Then let the choice be made, Your Majesty,” said Clarus. “What are we to protect?”

Yes, what were they to protect?

Ever since Noctis had been at Death’s door and anointed by the Crystal as the Chosen One, Regis had known this day would come. He knew of the destiny awaiting his son, and the choice he had to make.

The treaty would be signed in a few days, it was decreed: all territories outside Insomnia would be surrendered to the Empire, and Noctis would marry Lunafreya. The ceremony, however, would take place in Altissia instead of Lucis or Tenebrae.

**xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx**

Working at the city’s gates wasn’t exactly a thrilling job. One of the things Captain Drautos excelled at was finding an appropriate punishment for each transgressor. Spending eight hours standing at attention, doing nothing, because the actual guards were the ones handling the paperwork, that was Nyx’s idea of hell.

His new boss, Captain Petra Fortis, didn’t make things easier. As good Insomnian, he had grown inside the walls, happy and contented that his world was secure, and uncaring about what happened to the people outside, even if they suffered because Insomnians had failed to protect them.

Nyx did his best to zone out while Fortis taunted him. Not with ill intention, but out of ignorance, Nyx kept repeating to himself like a mantra. Nevertheless, after his working day was over, he would have preferred facing that hound daemon from the siege with a wooden knife.

That very night he met with his comrades to have some drinks. Walking through the narrow, crowded streets of the foreigners’ quarter made him feel better. The appetizing smell of the many food stands offering their spicy foods, people sitting outside, drinking, eating and chatting animatedly, it was the closest they could do to feel at home. It was true that one had to watch out for the occasional little brat playing pickpocket, and Nyx had become quite good at catching them, but it was their home away from home.

He arrived at the bar where his comrades were already eating and drinking. It was a quiet spot out of the main road, on a balcony overlooking the shabby buildings and the dry drainage channels. The owner was a fellow Galadhan, who also happened to be a licensed hunter. Rumor had it that he hunted the very delicacies he cooked, but the only answer he offered wether the rumors were true was a cryptic half smile.

“Hey!” Libertus, left leg set on a cast and propped up in a stool, saluted. “Rough day on the gate, huh, glaive?

“You jerk,” Crowe, sitting at his right, snapped. “It’s your fault he got stuck there.”

As if to drive the message home, she punched the injured leg, earning a yelp from Libertus. Then she got up to greet the newcomer.

“Not a very nice welcome for a big hero,” Nyx joked.

“Not a very nice outfit for one, either,” she quipped, looking him up and down. Unlike his companions, he had never bothered with buying civilian clothes, and he was wearing his glaive uniform with the jacket casually slung over his shoulder.

“I think it brings out my eyes,” Nyx answered before taking the free seat at Libertus’ left.

Pelna had gotten up to order two drinks, but the bartender was momentarily distracted by Libertus complaining about the skewers’ taste.

“Hey, shut your trap!” the man rebuked him. “This ain't Galahd. That's the way folks around here like it.”

“Oh, well. I'm glad to see you're willing to sell out our heritage for a few extra Gil.”

“Hey, Libertus,” Crowe cut the argument. “You thank Nyx for saving your life yet?”

The aforementioned glaive had to grab Libertus’ jacket from the free stool. There was something sticking out from one of the pockets that made Nyx’s smile drop. It was a bottle of sedative pills.

“Oh, come on, Crowe,” Libertus protested. “Nyx and I are too close for that. He helps me, I help him. That's the way it's always been.”

“Looks like you got little help from something else, huh?” Nyx said, showing the jacket with the bottle of pills to his friend.

“I need all I can get,” his friend snapped, yanking the garment out of his hands.

Nyx shot a brief glance to Crowe, who answered with a concerned look which told him more than any word she might have said.

“For hearth!” Pelna exclaimed, passing a glass to Nyx.

“And home,” the two finished the oath as they toasted.

“So, Nyx the Gatekeeper,” Pelna said. “How's the new post treating you?”

“Oh, it's amazing. You guys would love it. The gate watch are real sweethearts.”

“Yeah, right,” Pelna laughed. “We all know they hate us outsiders more than anything. So bored they got nothing better to do.”

“Boredom's not so bad,” Nyx said thoughtfully. “Means there's peace, at least. I'd fight a hundred more wars for Galahdans to know boredom.”

“Fight all you want,” Pelna said, raising his glass a second time. “Just don't go dying yet. I still owe you. A lot.”

“Where would the glaives be without their hero?” Libertus said aloud. There was a hint of resentment in his voice.

“Can you not talk like this while we're drinking, please?” Crowe snapped. “Besides, we just sent the Niffs running with their tails between their legs, right?”

“They weren't running from us,” Luche declared. It was the first time in the evening they had heard him talking. He had risen from his seat earlier to let Nyx pass, and now he was casually leaning on the railing with his drink on his hand. “No, they were toying with us.”

“Stop being such a buzzkill, Luche,” Nyx sighed. “We all know what happened.”

“Did you know they sent an envoy to the citadel after that?”

“What for?” Libertus joked. “To offer their surrender?”

“More like demand ours.”

“What? My ass!” Libertus yelled.

“Think about it,” Luche said. “The empire's got Lucis on its last legs. It's the perfect time to make demands.”

Suddenly the group of friends didn’t feel like drinking or eating anymore. If the King signed their surrender, everything they had fought for would be for nothing, and all the hopes they had about freeing their homelands would disappear.

**xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx**

Despite being posted at the City gates, Nyx still had access to the Kingsglaive HQ and its training grounds. That morning he had been more distracted than ever, and had to take some rest while the new recruits practiced warping. His flashbacks had become worse lately, and there was that recurring nightmare in which the King’s magic failed him when he most needed it.

He looked up as one of the recruits screamed while falling from a great height. The boy tossed his kukri to the ground and warped, landing safely, but he remained there, unable to stand up and heaving noisily. Warping wrecked one’s sense of balance, and it took a varying range of time for each recruit to stop vomiting after the deed. Some, like Libertus, never adapted. That was one of the reasons why training was always done on empty stomachs.

Libertus, though injured, hung around the training grounds too, and chuckled at Nyx’s side while leaning on his crutches.

“How come you never lose your lunch like that?” he asked his friend. “Just doesn't add up. Here's this ancient art, secret of the royal family and all that.”

Crowe called for them from the main lounge.

“Libertus! Nyx! Come here, guys, you gotta see this.”

All the glaives gathered around one of the TV screens, watching with expressions which ranged from disbelief to utter disgust at the news.

_“Things were hectic in the capital today as the Lucian government announced full acceptance of what some are criticizing as the unilateral peace terms proposed by Chancellor Izunia of Niflheim. The signing of the truce will see governing power over all Lucian territories transferred to the empire, with the sole exception of Insomnia. In return, Niflheim guarantees the continued safety of Insomnia and its citizenry, as well as a cessation to all hostilities, bringing a decisive end to this long and bitter war.”_

Someone lowered the volume. No one wanted to hear more, yet no one said anything. Only Crowe’s voice broke the silence.

“All that fighting we did. All for nothing… ”

The news had taken everyone by surprise, even their Captain, seeing how his dark-blue eyes flashed with barely restrained fury as he stormed into the lounge.

“Glaives!” he thundered. “Assemble in the briefing room. Now!”

It took them a few minutes to get into their proper uniforms and into the briefing room. Drautos walked into the room, more composed this time, but his disappointment was still visible.

“The king has spoken,” he said, striding before them. “And you have heard. All lands beyond the wall are to be relinquished to the empire.”

“Will no regions be spared?” Luche asked.

“None.”

“But your home's out there too!” Libertus protested.

“It is,” the Captain simply said, his expression unchanging.

“Why would the King do this?” he insisted.

“Because it’ll end this damn war,” for a second, Drautos’ face betrayed his resentment. “Crowe!”

“Sir!” she stood to attention.

“Prepare to deploy. You're being sent to infiltrate Tenebrae.”

“Tenebrae, sir?”

“Mission details are classified. Report to my office for briefing in thirty minutes. And, Nyx… You're off the west gate. You've been reassigned to the castle guard. That is all.”

Only when the Captain’s footsteps echoed away on the corridor outside the briefing room, did they consider themselves dismissed.

“So this is what you were talking about, Luche?” Libertus said through gritted teeth.

“You heard the captain,” the blond shrugged. “This wasn't our decision to make.”

“Not ours to make?” Libertus exploded, and Crowe and Pelna had to prevent him from lunging at Luche. “Those are our homes out there! Our people! And you're just gonna go along with this and abandon them?”

“If we don't go along with them the empire will unleash all hell on Insomnia.”

“We'll unleash it right back at them!” Libertus, crutches and all, charged again at the blond. Nyx was the one to intervene then.

“Easy, easy,” he said, pushing his friend back. “He's not the enemy.”

“Don't you get it?” said Tredd. “We're nothing to them. Rats, snuck in from beyond the wall. Sure, they had a use for us when they realized we could work their magic. So they handpicked us out from all the other rats out there and just let us nibble away at his royal majesty's precious power. But as soon as this war's all over, it's back to the sewers for all of us.” He then pointed at Nyx. “That means you too, hero. You’re missing home so much, Libertus, why don't you and Nyx head on back? I'm sure Niflheim will welcome you with open arms.”

This time Nyx was the one to lunge at his companion.

“You've got a home out there too,” he snarled as he held him against a column. Tredd shook him away with ease and walked away. “Or did you forget?”

The redhead turned around and spat on the floor. Then Nyx, Crowe and Libertus were left alone.

The news too much to take in, and they were all on edge. Libertus threw one of his crutches, cursing, and swore he wouldn’t let it end like that.


	4. Preparations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On which we finally see Nyx and Noctis' stories weaved together. Sort of. Also, a bit of speculative writing based of tidbits about supposed date of arrival at the City, age, character and rank in the army.

**BOOK 1: KINGSGLAIVE**

**CHAPTER 3 - PREPARATIONS**

Nyx thought he would never have to be at the western gate again, but this time he was there to see Crowe off to her mission.

The girl, now in civilian clothes, busied herself at the back of the delivery van, inside which a black motorcycle waited. When he and Libertus saw what she was carrying in a small box he couldn’t help cracking a joke.

“A hairpin?” he asked, looking at the golden jewel. “I didn't think you were into that kind of thing.”

“It's not for me,” she said, closing the box’s lid. “It's a gift for the Princess. But keep that quiet. Nobody's supposed to know,” the van sounded its horn. “Well, that's me.”

“Watch your back out there,” said Nyx, all jokes dropped.

“I know you're sick of hearing it,” Libertus wobbled towards her. “But you're like a little-”

“-Little sister to you,” she finished for him as she climbed into the van. “Yeah, I am sick of hearing it.”

“Just make sure you come back in one piece, all right?” he insisted.

“Says the guy in two pieces,” she smirked at him before closing the back door.

She was brave and strong, but they couldn’t help feeling worried every time she was sent on a solo mission. There was a kinship among the glaives, but most of the time it was out of necessity in order to survive. There were instances when some comrades grew closer to each other, and that had been the case with the three of them. Nyx tried to cheer his companion up on their way back to HQ, but Libertus, usually talkative and outgoing, didn’t say a word.

_ Tenebrae, that very morning _

Luna was readying herself to escape Fenestala Manor, her home. Just as she was on her way out of the palace wing where her quarters were, magitek soldiers, led by her brother Ravus, opened the door and surrounded her and her lady in waiting.

“I don’t recall granting you permission to leave your quarters, Lunafreya,” Ravus said, grabbing her arm and dragging her back to her room.

“You are not to leave this room again until the journey to Lucis. It is for your own good,” he said, once they were alone in her quarters.

“My own good?” she slowly echoed, gazing at him. “What is truly going on here? What cause does the empire have to see me wed to Noctis?”

“They have offered a peace treaty, and your marriage is the olive branch.”

“You expect me to believe that?”

“What you believe does not concern me. What does concern me is you sneaking off to go and tell our mother's killer about some plot you've dreamt up,” he said as he walked out of the room.

“You are wrong to hate King Regis. Niflheim killed Mother, not him. They murdered her and made you their lapdog.”

But he seemed to pay no heed to her words as he locked the door behind him, leaving her alone. Having failed to carry out her plak for a secret journey, she had no choice but to comply, as always.

_ Wastelands outside of Insomnia _

The van left her at a crossroads. Her bike ready, she saluted the driver as he made his way to a different direction.

Crowe sighed, Nyx and Libertus’ warnings still echoing in her mind. Infiltration missions were delicate, but they were also her specialty. As fiery as her character was, she could be subtle when needed and sneak her way around enemy lines.

However, she didn’t see the driver looking at her through the rear mirror, and she was too far away for her to hear him murmur on his radio: “It’s done.”

She was about to put on her helmet when she heard a vehicle approaching. A dark-grey van appeared from a side road and slowly drove towards her, the lights flashing as if trying to catch her attention. Crowe thought she could tell who the driver was.

**Several days until the signing ceremony.**

The preparations were underway, even though there wasn’t still a fixed date for the signing. The air at the Citadel was tense, to put it mildly. That morning, Noctis and Ignis had come to the Prince’s old room at the Palace to retrieve the few belongings he might need for the trip. They were also to meet the King, but he was too busy that day to do so. Noctis felt crestfallen, though he knew that, since they would depart the next day, the Council and court would have no other choice but let his father have some time to see his son.

At the Crownsguard office, Clarus held a meeting with his son, Gladiolus. The sound of clashing training swords could be heard, along with grunts and soldiers falling to the ground. Clarus was filling the younger Amicitia in about the security measures which would be in place during the signing. Everything sounded right, but Gladio couldn’t help feeling troubled by what he was hearing.

“So even Cor will be on external patrol that day?”

“Yes, and the Crownsguard will operate as usual. Only the bare minimum will be on duty.”

“So we leave the Citadel to the Kingsglaive, huh? Guess they don’t know what you’re capable of,” Gladio half smiled.

Clarus chuckled, but he defended the Kingsglaive.

“Gladiolus, the Kingsglaive has seen more than their fair share of battles. They’re more than capable.”

“No place for a Shield, huh?”

“The peace has brought along many changes, including the role of the Crownsguard. Our place is with the people now.”

“So you’re less of a _King’s Shield_ and more of a _People’s shield_.”

“Precisely. Protecting the populace ensures their support for his Majesty.”

Gladio frowned slightly, but he also knew that his father had little choice in the matter, so he just grunted in agreement.

“Whether one is a Shield or a glaive matters not,” his father continued. “The Amicitia family has but one duty: to safeguard and support the king.”

“Like I could forget,” Gladio smirked.

Clarus looked at his son squarely in the eye, and adopted a more formal tone. He was talking now not as his father, but as a Royal Advisor.

“The ceasefire will bring about many changes in Lucis. No matter what happens, Gladiolus, you must keep Prince Noctis safe.”

“Of course,” Gladio frowned, bemused that his father felt the need to remind him that.

“Protect him not just as the next king, but as a comrade and a true friend,” his father continued. “I will do the same within the Wall. I entrust matters on the outside to you.”

“Yes, sir!”

Someone knocked at the door.

“Come in,” said Clarus.

Cor Leonis entered. Someone remained behind him in the hallway.

“Pardon the intrusion,” the newcomer said.

Cor Leonis was as tall as Gladio, but less bulky than the younger man. Had it not been for his lack of years back when Regis ascended to the throne, he could have very well served as his Shield. A fearsome warrior, he had been nicknamed “The Immortal” by his peers, as he was famous for coming out of dire situations where a normal man would have perished.

If one could take the concept of _honor_ and shape a human being out of it, Cor Leonis would be a good example. At forty-five, his stern expression was emphasized by his shortly cropped, dark hair; his tanned skin and ice blue eyes; his carriage was always that of the perfect soldier, even when wearing civilian clothes; his voice was deep, yet surprisingly soft at times. That unusual combination made many a member from the Crownsguard dawdle at the training room each time he had to use it, or some palace girls find any chore within the vicinity of such a man each time he had to wait for a meeting to start.

Cor Leonis, along with Titus Drautos and Clarus Amicitia, they were considered the three strongest men in Lucis, only surpassed by the King himself. There had been times when Titus and Cor had held friendly matches, either with training swords or in hand to hand combat. Those uncommon events seemed to lift the morale of their respective branches of the army and part of the Palace staff. Despite both men’s stern personalities, they had no problem humoring their subordinates in that matter. Regardless of every match ending in a stalemate, the large and muscular frame of Drautos pitted against the nimbler build of Leonis was a spectacle in itself.

The popular belief was that, should the three of them enter the battlefield at the same time, no force could stop Lucis.

“Cor?” Clarus wasn’t expecting him.

“And pardon me,” said the other figure, entering behind the marshall. “Wait, Gladio?”

“What are you doing here, Prompto?”

“He’s here for his Crownsguard uniform,” said Cor. “So I thought it best he met the captain himself.”

“Prompto Argentum, am I right?” Clarus addressed the young man.

“Y-yes, sir!” he stammered, straightening up.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Gladio’s father was slightly amused at how the young man suddenly grew flustered. “No injuries from training, I presume?”

“No, sir! It went just fine, I think. Probably. A-and I promise to protect Noct if something happens!”

“Very noble of you.” Clarus was having a hard time suppressing a smile. “However, you must first and foremost protect yourself on this journey, hence your self-defense training.”

“R-right.”

“I understand you decided to undertake this journey as his friend. Take pride in your position at his side.”

“Right! And, uh, thank you!”

“I appreciate your time today,” he said, and to end the conversation, he added: “I assume you have some preparations to take care of, so you may be on your way.”

“Yes, sir!”

“I better get ready, too,” said Gladio.

“Understood,” Clarus dismissed them. “I’ll see you soon.”

Once the two young men closed the door behind them, the atmosphere in the room darkened.

“Did you speak with Drautos?” Clarus asked Cor.

“I haven’t had a chance just yet,” he said, but the truth was that he was still struggling, not to find the time, but the right words. No matter how many times he tried rehearsing a conversation in his mind, it always came out as awkward and forced.

He had known Titus ever since the latter had arrived at Insomnia, so many years back. His prowess in the training room garnered the attention of Clarus, of all people, and Cor saw himself for the first time with a fellow student. Their similar tempers made them become fast friends, being also the only ones who could keep up with the other when training. That was why Cor hesitated: he was one of the very few people who knew of Titus’ full story before he stumbled into the city gates, heavily wounded and half-mad with grief, and he could only imagine how torn he must have felt when the signing was announced.

“He hasn’t looked well lately,” Clarus said. “I suppose the alliance is to blame.”

“I doubt the Kingsglaive are happy about the territory terms.”

Clarus let out a weary sigh. The whole treaty matter was like balancing a house of cards.

“Can nothing be done about my post tomorrow?” Cor insisted.

“It is as I said: all of the plans have already received His Majesty’s approval.”

“Doesn’t he think it suspicious? This is equivalent to excluding the Crownsguard entirely.”

“He knows.”

“There isn’t much time until the signing ceremony, Clarus. If anything should happen, we should be in the Citadel-”

Clarus interrupted with a quiet, but firm voice.

“Calm down, Cor. If anything should happen, the citizens must be your priority. Your position was ordained by the King.”

“Is he expecting something to happen?” Cor’s blue eyes gave Clarus a probing glance. Loyal as he had always been to the crown, he was anything but stupid. Knowing his pupil, Clarus kept his expression impassive.

“His Majesty realized long ago that the options available to Lucis are few.”

“You don’t mean…?” was the King already preparing for the worse?

“He had his reservations about the Kingsglaive’s position, but they’re the only ones who can fight against the empire.”

“All the more reason for me to be there,” Cor urged. “If experience is what you need, then put me at the King’s side-”

“Don’t forget, Cor,” Clarus interrupted him for the last time, ending the conversation. “The citizens must be your priority should anything happen. King Regis wanted only the most capable to evacuate the people. I know you won’t let him down.”

Steeling himself, Cor made a formal salute and excused himself. As he walked down the corridor to his own office, he felt that tell-tale weight inside him, as he did every time he knew the odds were stacked against them.

_ At the Citadel _

Prompto and Gladio talked excitedly as they strolled through the Citadel. The younger man felt more energetic than usual that evening, and his friend could only look at him with a bemused half smile. It wasn’t every day one got to meet with the army’s highest ranking officers.

“You gonna wait for Noct here?” Gladio asked him.

“Nah, think I’ll head home for a bit.”

“Why? Forget something?”

“No, nothin’ like that! Just thought I’d show my parents my new digs.”

“Heh, sounds good.”

“It’s kinda proof that I’m worthy to go on this trip, y’know?” Prompto grinned. “Just hope they’re home.”

“Not much you can do if they aren’t, huh.”

“Nah. We don’t see each other much, but it’s been that way since I was a kid. Anyway,” he said, making light of the subject. “If they’re not in, I’ll come right on back!”

“Right. Well, I might be a little late. Got dinner plans.”

“Do tell.”

“My family and I are going out to eat. Hardly ever happens, so I figured I might as well go along.”

“Nice! Take your time, and send Iris my regards.”

“Oh, yeah. She mentioned she saw you the other day.”

“Huh? Where?”

“In the park, taking pictures.”

“Sounds like me,” Prompto smiled. “Why didn’t she come over and say _hi_ if she saw me?”

“Said she did.”

“H-hold up. Seriously? Oh man, I can’t believe I didn’t notice.”

Gladio crossed his arms, assuming a worried expression, but his voice betrayed his amusement.

“She was really worried about you.”

“You should’ve told her not to worry!”

Gladio laughed heartily. Pulling his friend’s leg was far too easy.

_ That evening at the Kingsglaive HQ _

Libertus waited uneasily at the briefing room. The Captain had summoned him and Nyx to receive orders. What kind of mission an injured soldier like him could do was beyond him, though he still had to obey his commands. But at that moment he couldn’t take Crowe out of his head. Maybe it was the peace treaty and how pissed off he felt about it, but he had a bad feeling about her mission. The other glaives had been acting a bit strange too, maybe because of the argument he and Nyx had with Luche and Tredd that morning. Only Pelna seemed the same as ever, but that was him, ever the optimist.

Libertus stood to attention as soon as he heard Drautos’ footsteps entering the room.

“Thank you for coming, Libertus. Where’s Nyx?” Their commander seemed to be calmer that evening, and back to his former self.

“On his way. What’s up?”

“I wanted one of you to see the prince back to his place in the city.”

“Seriously?” Libertus asked incredulously. The folks at the Palace kept adding insult to injury. “Dropping off the prince? Are we babysitters now?”

“It’s the price to pay for using his car.”

“To do what?”

“To safeguard our esteemed guests,” Drautos said with a hint of tiredness in his voice. “It’s the only car worthy of the task.”

Libertus’ irritation gave way to gloominess.

“It’ll be a peaceful exchange, won’t it?” he said, his shoulders slumping like those of a dejected child. “Any car should do.”

Drautos chuckled quietly. “I take it you’re not a fan of the ceasefire, huh,” he said, his scarred face softening all of a sudden.

“I dunno,” Libertus shrugged. “I want peace just like anyone else. I should be happy if no one else has to get hurt like this.”

“But you can’t be happy,” the Captain insisted. “Not with these terms.”

Libertus looked even more downhearted. “‘Course not,” he finally said, lowering his eyes. “You know we’re all thinking the same thing.”

A brief silence feool on their conversation. Libertus had so many things he wanted to say, but he was at a loss for words. Besides, there was no other option for them, was there? Many of his comrades had lost what little faith they had in the King, and he was about to follow their example, but Nyx’s conviction was what kept him in Insomnia. After all, Nyx had always been the one to see things before they happened. He had that gift, to anticipate every event, to see every pattern and to read people like no one else could. Libertus was a good warrior, maybe as good as Nyx, if only he could stop getting queasy when warping, but Nyx had the better judgment ever since they were kids, and Libertus would follow his friend through any decision, even if he didn’t understand the reasoning behind it.

This time, however, he had a strange feeling at the pit of his stomach, something he couldn’t put his finger on.

Eventually, Drautos sighed quietly and changed the subject. “How’s your leg?”

“Still need crutches to get around,” Libertus lifted one of them as if to show it. Even with curative magic, a broken leg took several days to mend properly.

“I see. Sorry for calling you out here, then. Assignments have been updated, so go have a look. After that, go home and rest that leg.”

“What about the prince?”

“Nyx’ll handle it.”

“‘Preciate it. Guess I’ll head home then,” he said with relief.

“Take care, Libertus.”

The glaive saluted his Captain despite the crutches and hobbled out of the briefing room. Drautos watched him leave, his look of concern changing to a mask of cold indifference as he returned to his own office.

_ Later, at the Citadel’s entrance hall  _

Libertus labored his way through the slippery marble floor of the Palace hall. If only he could do the medical leave paperwork at the Kingsglaive HQ, instead of being forced to go all the way to the Palace and the Crownsguard office.

Suddenly he slipped and stumbled, and his crutches fell with a clatter.

“Damn…” he cursed under his breath. People were turning their heads to look at him and murmuring.

However, someone ran towards him instead and picked the crutches up. It was a girl, maybe fifteen or sixteen, dark haired and dark eyed.

“Are you all right?” she asked as she gave them back.

“Thanks,” he said, smiling with a bit of embarrassment. “Just can’t seem to get the hang of these things.”

“Guess it happened recently, huh,” she had a concerned look on her face. What a difference from the other people at the hall.

“Yeah, on the job,” he grunted as he heaved himself upright.

“So…” she asked tentatively, looking at his uniform. “Are you one of the Kingsglaive?”

“Yeah, that’s me.”

“Are you Nyx?”

“Nah, name’s Libertus.”

“Oh…” her cheeks reddened just slightly. “My mistake.”

“You got business with Nyx?” he asked cautiously. Didn’t she look too young for Nyx?

“Well, no, I just heard he’d be with the prince, so…”

“And who’re you?”

“Iris Amicitia.”

“Amicitia?” Libertus’ eyes widened. “You mean…?”

The girl’s face lit up as she smiled broadly.

“Yes, my father and brother are in the Crownsguard. Noct and I are friends.”

“Huh. So you have business with the prince? And you’re waiting here for him?”

“Yep!” she beamed. “I heard someone’s coming to pick him up.”

“Sorry to say, but I think you missed him.”

“What?”

“He should probably be home by now.”

The smile faltered and her shoulders slumped ever so slightly.

“Y-you don’t say,” she stammered, trying to keep her cool. “Thanks for letting me know.”

“Was it important? I’ll call the driver and see where they are now.”

“What? No, you don’t-”

Without waiting for Iris’ answer, Libertus called Nyx. He might not be considered a _hero_ like his friend, but he couldn’t let down such a sweet-looking girl. Besides, now that he took a closer look, her eyes were the same color as Crowe’s and was about the same age as she had been when she arrived at the Kingsglaive.

“Hey,” he told Nyx as soon as the other picked up. “Where are you now? And the prince?” Iris could make out a brief answer from Nyx. “‘Course he is. Nah, it’s nothin’. Later,” he hung up and looked apologetically at the girl. “Seems His Highness is back home already. Sorry.”

“Thank you for checking anyway,” she smiled, despite her disappointment. She had that inner strength, the same as Crowe, only this girl showed it in a different way.

“Well, if he’s your friend,” he said. “Why don’t you just meet up with him tomorrow?”

“I guess…” she whispered hoarsely, as tears welled up in her eyes.

“Or… maybe not,” he stammered, taken aback by her sudden display of emotion.

“It’s just…” she said, wiping away her tears. “Today is a special day.”

“Ohhh, I see. Didn’t know the prince was that kinda guy.”

“I guess he is…” she admitted, forcing a smile.

“Well, it might be hard to get a hold of the prince, but I’m sure he’d take a call from a friend.”

“Huh?”

“If it’s urgent, why not?”

“Well, I’ve never called him before,” she said, her cheeks reddening.

“But you have his number, don’t you?

“Yeah, but…”

“Then what’re you waitin’ for?”

“My brother’ll get mad at me if I do…”

“Then you leave him to me!” he puffed up his chest, despite the crutches, and despite the fact that he was talking about Gladiolus Amicitia, the future Shield. “If today’s really so special, you better call him before it’s too late.”

Iris looked at Libertus uncertainly.

“You’ll regret it if you don’t,” he insisted. Hell if he didn’t know about that.

Apparently convinced, Iris took out her cell phone and called the Prince, her hands shaking ever so slightly. She was so close Libertus could hear it all, despite not wanting to.

_“Hello?”_

“Hello, Noct?”

_“Iris? What’s up? Something wrong?”_

“No, I just wanted to tell you…” she hesitated all of a sudden. “To be careful out there. And I… wish you all the best.”

_“Oh… That it?”_

“Yeah!” she laughed awkwardly. “That’s it.”

_“I appreciate it. Anyway, I’m gonna go.”_

“Okay, bye.”

“Did you get it all out?” Libertus asked, despite having listened to it all.

Iris sniffled, fighting back her tears.

“Yeah,” she lied, somehow controlling her voice so that it didn’t tremble, and attempting to smile.

“Good to hear,” Libertus knew better than to call her bluff out.

“I’m sorry for all the trouble,” she apologized.

“Nah,” he said, waving a dismissive hand. “I’m the one who butted in to begin with. I have something of a little sister myself, so I couldn’t help it.”

Hearing this, Iris laughed, this time with genuine feeling.

“No kidding!”

“Anyway, hope you’re feeling better now.”

“I am!” she beamed, smiling sweetly once again.

“See ya,” he waved and went on his way, more careful this time with the slippery floor.

“Thank you, Libertus! Please take care of that leg.”

“Will do!”

_ Late that evening, at the Palace _

With a long-drawn sigh, Regis undid the clasps of his cape and ceremonial pauldrons, leaving them in a bundle over the bed. Silence at last. His mind felt numb after that meeting, and his lower back kept protesting. Trying to stretch only made things worse, and he let it rest for the moment. Standing by the window, he looked at the city below.

For twenty years he had been dreading these days, the waning of his own reign. He wasn’t a king who would hoard his crown and not relinquish it, but he had hoped to maintain things as they were for a few more years, at least until Noctis was older and could make the pilgrimage to the sacred Tombs. Not that he was a child anymore, but he wanted to make sure he was actually prepared.

The crown had been thrust on Regis’ hands when he was twenty eight, older than his son was, and yet he had felt so unready. But, was there ever a moment when one feels prepared for such responsibility? Things had been rough at first, with the empire attempting to invade Insomnia. Thank Bahamut their efforts were thwarted at the last minute. By a miracle Regis had escaped with his life, and the city was saved from further damage, but even now, thirty years later, he was still wondering what had happened after he lost consciousness.

Now his child would have to leave the security of his city and marry for political reasons. It was true that Noctis had been writing to Lunafreya all those years, and that the tone of the letters was always cheerful and friendly, but taking her as his wife was a stretch. Not that he had protested, according to Ignis’ reports on him. No, it was Lunafreya’s reaction that worried Regis.

His slightly trembling fingers reached for the crown, taking it off and throwing it onto the bed without a glance. He combed his silver hair with his hands, wondering how such a small fragment of adamantium could weigh so much. Perhaps he was imagining things.

Twelve years had passed since that fateful day at Tenebrae, when he could not save Sylva. If only he didn’t have to maintain the Wall from afar, then he could have wielded his full power. He closed his eyes, remembering the public appearances of Lunafreya. That kind, dutiful child had transformed into a pious woman, revered by the masses. Now she would become tied to a slave state, and whenever Lucis made a movement that displeased the empire dire consequences would follow for Tenebrae, or anything she cared about.

But he could only ease the way to the new day, and wait.

Falling tiredly on his favorite chair, he tried massaging his temples when he heard the door opening without knocking first, and he knew it was Clarus.

“I had no idea meetings could be so taxing,” his friend grunted, trying to stretch. However, he had as little success as his monarch, and desisted with a grimace of pain. “My back aches.”

Regis managed a short laugh, followed by a long sigh.

“How are you feeling?” Clarus asked, dropping the formalities once they were in private. “I imagine you must be exhausted.”

“Indeed.”

“And what of Noctis?”

“I hadn’t had time to see him,” Regis said with regret.

“I see… After you send him on his way tomorrow, why not rest a little? Let me handle the more trivial matters.”

“I can’t have that,” Regis smiled. “If I leave the kingdom in your hands even for a day, I won’t have a place to return to.”

“You make it sound like a bad thing.”

The two friends laughed.

“But you needn’t worry about me,” Regis assured him, with some of the tension dropped. “I’m doing just fine.”

“Have you had time to contact Cid? If not, I’d be happy to drop him a line.”

“That won’t be necessary. I managed to call him today.”

“How was he?” Clarus asked. It had been many years since they had last seen his old friend.

“Fine. But he demanded a personal visit in exchange for looking after my son.”

“Not the attitude one would normally take towards a king.”

“There must be something on his mind for him to be so insistent.” It had been decades since they parted ways, and not on the best of terms. Regis knew that insistence wasn’t normal.

“What did you tell him?”

“That I couldn’t see him.”

“Ah, you are an honest King,” Clarus joked.

“Honest? Even when I couldn’t tell him anything?” Regis scowled. “I couldn’t even be honest with my own son.”

Clarus’ expression darkened, and he sighed before answering.

“It’s not something that can simply be said. When the time came, I couldn’t do it either,” he said, remembering his son. “But there are no right words for such a circumstance… to send them on their way, that is.”

“Clarus…”

“You’ve done more than enough, Regis. They’re no longer children. Someday they will understand.”

“Thank you,” the King said with a heartfelt smile. It faded almost immediately, and he became serious again. “Many sacrifices must be made for the future. Perhaps it’s too much to hope for the understanding of my people. But my will is to protect those of the present, and on the path I have chosen, the options before me are few. I have thrown away my pride. Perhaps I’ll even be ridiculed as a fool. The name of Amicitia, in the service of Caelum, will be sullied. For that, I must beg your forgiveness, Clarus.”

His friend shook his head.

“You needn’t apologize. To me, you are more than a king: you are a true friend,” and he added, looking at him in the eye, “No matter what happens, that will never change.”


	5. Departure

**BOOK 1: KINGSGLAIVE**

**CHAPTER 4 - DEPARTURE**

**Three days before the signing ceremony.**

Noctis and his friends presented themselves before the King. They had already said their goodbyes to their families and other friends. Prompto didn’t have a chance to do so, since his parents had gone away on yet another trip without telling him where. He didn’t care. Warm as he was, his relationship with his parents was a superficial one, and he had come to terms with it a long time ago.

As they stood on the upper stairs’ platform, the King spoke.

“The decreed hour is come,” he said. “Set forth with my blessing, Prince Noctis.”

Noctis bowed.

“Thank you… Your Majesty,” even if his address to the King was formal, there was a hint of filial love in his gestures, and the way he smiled at his father.

“Take your leave, and go in the grace of the gods.”

With that, Noctis turned around and left. His friends were taken aback by such brusqueness, but they bowed to the King and followed the Prince. None saw the brief gesture of discomfort Regis made as he watched his son go.

“Well,” Prompto said nonchalantly as they strolled down the Palace’s stairs. “Princes will be princes.”

“So much for royal protocol,” Ignis lamented.

“Not like you had to deliver a formal address,” Gladio said, as they reached the middle landing of the steps.

“Your Highness!” they heard a voice calling out to them.

It was Captain Drautos and, at his side, the King laboriously walked down the stairs towards his son. The Captain stopped, and left the King some privacy with the Prince.

“What now,” Noctis sighed, leaving his companions to walk up to his father.

“I fear I have left too much unsaid,” he said when Noctis was at his side. He raised his hand for him to stop, and gestured him to walk with him towards his friends, leaving Drautos well behind. “You place a great burden on those who would bear with you.”

“You are one to talk,” Noctis joked, all formalities dropped.

Regis smiled, and addressed his son’s friends.

“I ask not that you guide my wayward son,” he told them. “Merely that you remain at his side.”

Ignis was the first to bow, always the embodiment of protocol. The others followed suit.

“Indeed, Your Grace,” he said.

“We’ll see the Prince to Altissia,” Gladio declared. “Even if it’s the last thing we see.”

“Yeah,” Prompto chimed in, not knowing very well what to say that might be appropriate. “What he said.”

“Hate to break this up,” Noctis interrupted, not being one for etiquette. “Cor’s got the motor running. Drautos!” he bellowed over his father’s shoulder. “He’s in your hands!”

“And another thing,” Regis said as his son turned away.

_“Come on, Dad,”_ Noctis thought with exasperation. _“It’s not like it’s my first day at school.”_

“Do mind your manners around your charming bride-to-be.”

His son grinned, walking back to him.

“Your Majesty as well,” he jested as he bowed. “Try to mind your manners around our esteemed guests from Niflheim.”

“You have no cause for concern,” his father smiled.

“Nor do you,” Noctis mirrored his expression, though he was still wondering why his father took so long to say goodbye. It was true that this was the first time he had traveled outside Insomnia, but in the end it would be a simple road trip with his friends.

“Take heed,” Regis insisted, looking at him in the eye. “Once you set forth, you cannot turn back.”

“You think I would?”

“I need only know that you are ready to leave home behind,” Regis’ expression became strangely serious then, and Noctis refrained from making any remark about his father being too dramatic. He would be back after the wedding, and that would take less than a week.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m as ready as I’ll ever be,” Noctis said.

“Take care on the long road,” Regis continued, preventing his son from leaving one last time. “Wheresoever you should go, the line of Lucis goes with you,” he put a hand on Noctis’ shoulder, and, maybe for the first time in many days, a tender smile warmed his weary features. “Walk tall, my son.”

_ Somewhere, in the wastelands outside Insomnia _

An assault craft from the Empire rocketed by, raising dust and making visibility all the more difficult. The two scavengers paid no heed to it. They were just junk foragers, nothing to worry the high and mighty Empire.

“So, what do you think?” said one, bating the flies around him. “All these lands will be imperial soon. Reckon things will get better when them Niffs start calling the shots?”

“Not one damn bit,” the other grumbled. “Don't matter who's calling the shots. As long as they're calling them from behind the Wall, ain't nothing gonna change around here.”

The other laughed, already used to his companion’s rants. What he wasn’t used to was many flies. They were usually at the junkyard, but today they number was almost annoying. The stench was worse that day too. Some animal must have died nearby.

“Dude!” the second scavenger called. “Get over here!”

Something was protruding from the junk. Something slim and hooked, black and swarming with insects. Looking closer, the swarm of flies went away, revealing the thing they clustered around.

They both screamed when the flies scattered. It was a hand and an arm.

_ Later that day _

Nyx’s home was a single room apartment in a run-down building in the foreigner’s quarter. It was humbly furnished, with no more than what a single person would need: a kitchenette, a bed, a wing chair for him, a smaller armchair in case someone visited, a lamp, a focus crystal atop a pedestal to practice magic, a small coffee table, and a small flat TV hung by the window under which he had installed a desk and a chair. The plaster on the walls had been peeling off ever since he could remember, but he didn’t bother telling the landowner about it. People back at home were having it rougher, he told himself, and he wouldn’t die if the walls didn’t look pristine.

On top of the desk, smoke slowly rose from a censer in the shape of a griffin holding the burning tray. Behind it, Nyx had a board with the map of Eos and another of Insomnia, but both had been obscured by the many photos and newspaper clips he had pinned there.

It was early in the morning, and he was watching TV before heading out to work at the western gate. His right hand played idly with a magical flame which colored his scarred chest with an orange light. Switching channels, he came upon the morning news, which showed the imperial retinue arriving at Insomnia, with Emperor Iedolas Aldercapt and Chancellor Ardyn Izunia leading it. As the newscasters droned on, his eyes went to the board with the keepsakes. A small bouquet of dried flowers and ribbons was pinned at the top, made by one of his neighbors: an old woman and fellow Galahdan who gave it to him at the time they should have held the harvest festival.

Scattered all around the board were pictures of his past and present life: A family photo from when he was a kid, with his father and his uncle, before they were killed while hunting; Nyx and Libertus as children, playing in the river; Libertus, Selena (Nyx’s late sister), and other friends from when they ran a bar back at Galahd; his mother and Selena at the last harvest festival; Nyx and Libertus the very first day they got their Kingsglaive uniforms. There were also other things pinned there, like the diploma which officially made him a glaive, the train ticket he purchased when he traveled from Galahd to Insomnia, a letter from a kid he saved and some drawings: thank you gifts from other children. Then his eyes rested on the newspaper clips: The attack on Galahd, the withdrawal of Lucis, the establishment of the Kingsglaive.

His fist closed, extinguishing the flame, as memories resurfaced: The King telling them how Lucis needed their strength, Fortis taunting him at the gates, Drautos chiding him and reminding him that his magic power was a borrowed one… Selena urging him to help their mother.

On his way to work, Nyx noticed how the entire city hummed: with excitement where the Insomnians lived, and with resentment in the foreigners’ quarters. People gathered around the giant TV screens, watching reruns of the earlier news, with repeated images of the Emperor and his retinue.

As he walked down the street, a car sounded its horn, coming to stop near him. It was the custom sports car he had driven some days before, when he’d had to drop the Prince at his home. The passenger’s window lowered and, to Nyx’s surprise, the one behind the wheel was his Captain.

“Get in,” Drautos ordered.

“I'm reporting to my post now though, sir,” Nyx excused himself, leaning on the car’s roof. He noticed that his Captain had taken his pauldrons off to fit inside the vehicle.

“New orders,” said the Captain. Then he smiled softly, something he hardly ever did. “Come on. We've got a Princess to pick up.”

“Nice ride, sir,” Nyx commented as they sped their way down to the Citadel.

“It belongs to the prince,” Drautos said, either entirely missing or ignoring the baiting tone of his subordinate. Despite Nyx having driven that car already, he hadn’t been told who the actual owner was. “We've taken him outside the city.”

“Doesn't he have a wedding to plan, sir?” Nyx asked.

“Cut the _sir_ crap,” Drautos grumbled. “The King has a plan of his own. Prince Noctis and Princess Lunafreya are to meet far from Insomnia.”

“What's she doing here then?”

“Complicating things,” Drautos scowled. “We sent Crowe to find the Princess and escort her out of Tenebrae.”

Nyx looked at Drautos, alarmed.

“We're still trying to figure out what went wrong,” the Captain said ruefully.

They had arrived near the slum’s exit. People gathered there, not to celebrate, but to protest against the peace treaty and King Regis, while the Crownsguard kept them out of the road.

“So I know what you think about this war,” Drautos said casually once they had left the protesters behind. “But what do you think about this peace? You happy giving up your home?”

“It's the King's decision. I owe him for taking me in. I was lucky. There are people in Galahd who weren't. And,” Nyx added, pointing at the demonstrators they left behind. “They need me.”

“So you're going back?” Drautos sounded incredulous. “What good will you be without the King's magic?”

Nyx pressed his lips together, unable to respond.

“Yeah,” Drautos continued. “Always wanting to save somebody. I get it. Believe me. But it doesn't win wars.”

“It’s not just wanting,” Nyx protested. “And it’s not just me. Libertus is the one you need to worry about. He'll go back if things get worse.”

“The worst is yet to come,” Drautos said quietly.

**xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx**

A big crowd gathered around the Citadel’s entrance, waiting to catch a glimpse of the dignitaries on their way to the Palace.

Inside a silver car, Lady Lunafreya waited patiently. Meanwhile, her Imperial escort, a scrawny, pompous, short man, dressed in Niflheim’s full regalia, had a heated discussion with the captain of the gate guards, Petra Fortis. The captain, in turn, couldn’t hide his disgust towards the little bureaucrat, and very much missed his former, quiet post at the western gates.

“Open the gate now!” the small man ordered. “And maybe you’ll have a job tomorrow.”

“King’s orders,” Captain Fortis grumbled, towering over the diplomat, whose uniform looked three sizes too big for him. The shiny golden pauldrons and helmet looked like a joke on that narrow-chested man, whose toughest fight in life seemed to have been against a stapler.

“Are you sure you want to risk a diplomatic issue now, of all times?” the small man continued, as Fortis sighed with impatience. “I’m the personal escort of Lady Lunafreya Nox Fleuret, Princess of the former Tenebrae and-”

“And the future wife of Prince Noctis,” Drautos’ voice carried over the crowd, as his tall, bulky frame approached them, accentuated, now that he had gotten out of the Prince’s car, by his black pauldrons and half cape. The contrast between his imposing figure and the little diplomat was almost comical. “Welcome to sovereign jurisdiction, ambassador. We'll take care of things from here,” he turned to Nyx. “Take Her Highness to the Palace.”

While the diplomat stammered his protests, Nyx got into the car after dismissing the chauffeur and presenting his respects to the Lady.

They drove in silence, and just a hint of a smile touched the Lady’s lips as they left the bumbling ambassador behind, still trying to deal with a very amused Drautos, and a not so amused Fortis.

**xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx**

King Regis waited for Luna at the Throne Room. He stood by his seat, unable, for the first time in many years, to bear his restlessness.

When the aide announced her, Regis sighed and turned to the door, and an earnest smile lightened up his features.

“It has been a long time, Your Majesty,” she said warmly.

“It has,” he echoed. “Far too long.”

“Prince Noctis isn’t here, is he?” she asked, as the King took his place at his seat.

“No, my dear, he’s not.”

A half contained sigh of disappointment escaped from her, but she promptly straightened her back and looked at the King.

“I’m too old to fight this war,” Regis said. “I have no other choice but to receive the Empire and accept their treaty. Even so… I had hoped to hold the wedding elsewhere, somewhere safe. I sent one of my glaives to see you there, but…”

She shook her head softly.

“It is not too late,” the King insisted. “I can ready an escort. Please, go to my son.”

“No,” she said softly.

Regis sat back. He knew that look. Despite her fragile exterior, Sylva, Luna’s mother, had been a willful woman, and so was her daughter.

“Wherever I go, the empire will follow,” said Luna. “It would only place the prince in greater danger. It is my duty to protect the prince and see his destiny fulfilled. These twelve years have not changed that.”

“And what about your destiny?” he asked.

“My duty is my destiny, Your Majesty. I’m prepared to accept whatever may come to pass.”

Sorrow and mercy filled the King’s heart when Lunafreya spoke. He saw her against the black marble, clad in white and silver: A single ray of light amongst a sea of darkness, lovely and pure as a lily, strong as tempered steel.

Nyx also felt moved by her words. Yet something didn’t add up. He had heard many stories about the Oracle and how she spent her life curing those afflicted by the Starscourge. It had to be a tough life, always treating the infirm, and with the risk of being infected herself. She sounded earnest, as someone whose life was dedicated to helping others should, yet her speech seemed rehearsed.

And, as always, his hunter instinct warned him of impending peril.


	6. The Pauper Prince

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter and the previous one happen at the exact same time, but since in Insomnia things are about to get "interesting", I thought a bit of a breather was in order.

**BOOK 1: KINGSGLAIVE**

**CHAPTER 5 - THE PAUPER PRINCE  
**

_ On the road outside Insomnia _

The Regalia, King Regis’ personal vehicle, was an astounding machine. Custom made by Cid Sophiar, it joined power with comfort and luxury. Even though Ignis was the designated driver, given his carefulness and the fact that his perfectionism got the better of him each time someone else took the wheel, Prompto, through much insistence, had convinced him to let him occupy the driver seat.

Now, Prompto wasn’t a bad driver per se, but his lack of attention span was a concern sometimes for everyone around him. Ignis solved that problem by sitting as the co-pilot and not letting anything distract the young man.

“It’s been a while,” Ignis commented at some point, talking to Noctis. “Do you remember the last time you saw Lady Lunafreya?”

“About twelve years,” the prince mused, looking distractedly at the rocky desert passing by.

“That would make you,” Prompto said, turning around. “Eight? You were kids!” Ignis quickly signaled him to keep his eyes on the road.

“I hope she hasn’t gotten her hopes up,” Gladio joked.

“Why not?” Noctis protested over Prompto’s laugh. “Shut up!” he shouted at his friend.

“Try and keep it together when you meet her,” Gladio kept poking at him. “She'll expect to see a fine young prince.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” he retorted, though he felt his cheeks reddening already.

“We don't have time for all that,” Ignis remarked. “But this is your wedding we're talking about, Noct.”

“Knew that too.”

Prompto laughed again.

“Shut up and drive!” Noctis protested.

A bang blasted behind them. And then another. It came from under the car.

“Uh, oh!” said Prompto, seeing a black cloud rising from behind the Regalia.

“What do you mean _uh, oh_?” Ignis asked, but he already knew the answer as soon as the car stopped.

The Regalia had broken down. They didn’t know how to fix it, and there was no way they could contact the Hammerhead repair shop. Somehow, they had forgotten to ask for the phone number, thinking that the vehicle wouldn’t cause any problem.

They pushed it for a time until they were spent and could not move. Then Gladio tried stopping any passing car which could take them to their destination. Not something Noctis was very enthusiastic about, since anyone coming from Insomnia could recognize their Crownsguard crests and start asking questions.

No luck on that front, though.

“I think we can forget about hitching our way there,” he sighed. “Thought people were friendly outside the City.”

“You can only go so far on the kindness of strangers,” Ignis said, leaning on the driving wheel.

“Just gonna push her all the way,” Gladio said, stretching.

“I’ve already pushed myself,” Prompto panted from the back of the car where he was lying on his back. “To the brink of death.”

Gladio walked to where Noctis sat and Prompto lay.

“Oh, get up,” he told Noctis. To Prompto, he gave a soft kick to his shoe’s sole. “C’mon, car isn’t going to move itself.”

“I thought the _car_ was supposed to move _us_ ,” the young man protested as he took his place at the Regalia’s right side.

“Wouldn’t that be nice,” Noctis responded, walking to the left door, next to Ignis.

“Can it,” Gladio cut them. “Ready? Steady? PUUUSH!”

With Gladio’s strength at the back of the car it wasn’t that difficult, but they were in the Leide region, which was a rocky desert, and they were dressed in the dark colors of the Crownsguard, pushing a black car which, even with the hood down, was bound to get overheated.

“So… heavy…” Prompto protested while pushing.

“Un. Believable,” Noctis said, sweat drops rolling down his face.

“Not exactly a fairy tale beginning, huh, Prince Noctis?” Gladio joked.

“We let ourselves get carried away,” Ignis lamented, still looking at the dashboard.

“Look,” Prompto defended. “These things happen!”

“Let’s just hope this isn’t some omen,” the arms master panted.

“Gladio,” said Noctis. “Do me a favor.”

“What?”

“Push this thing by yourself.”

“All by myself?”

“You won’t even notice if we juuust let go,” Prompto said.

“Prompto! Don’t even think about it!”

“Save your breath for pushing,” Ignis chided them.

“Ignis, c’mon…” Noctis said. “Time to switch!”

“Nuh-uh,” Gladio yelled. “We just switched back there!”

“And it’s my turn, Noct,” Prompto reminded him.

“His _turn_ ,” Ignis repeated in amusement.

“My hands are killing me,” the gunslinger protested.

“You rather I kill you with mine?” Gladio reminded him.

“Easy there, though guy.”

“Any luck?” Noctis asked Ignis.

“Only a busy signal.”

“Hold the phone,” Prompto interrupted. “Is it just me, or was it supposed to be way closer?”

“I assure you the map is correct.”

“The map said Hammerhead was right there,” Noctis objected.

“Literally next door,” Prompto pointed out.

“Looks that way on a map of the world,” Gladio ironized, but was too focused on pushing to explain about scale equivalences, or at least give them each a good slap on the back of the neck for not learning it.

The landscape rolled slowly past as they painstakingly made their way onwards. The only sound was of the three men grunting and the car’s wheels slow crunch over the sand covered tarmac.

“The world is a big ol’ place,” Noctis mused.

“Filled with wonders,” Ignis agreed.

“Tell that to my legs.”

“You guys even pushing?” Gladio yelled angrily from the back.

“Hard as I can!” Prompto said, though it was a bit difficult to know if he was sincere or not.

Slowly but surely, they finally reached Hammerhead. It was hard to miss with its giant sign and the roof of the warehouse shaped like a giant hammerhead shark.

Prompto and Noctis slumped against the car. Even Gladio had difficulties catching his breath. Ignis, for his part, was only slightly miffed at the delay. The four of them waited for the man called Cid to arrive.

They heard footsteps and a cheerful voice calling for them.

“Hey there, y’all kept a girl waiting!” said a young woman as she approached.

She was striking, to put it mildly: They saw blonde, wavy hair poking out of the red cap, a small face with huge, bright, green eyes, many freckles under the smears of car grease, and a beautifully shaped mouth which always had a bright smile ready.

That was how people described her, but it would be necessary to point out that our heroes’ glances (at least in the case of Gladiolus and Prompto), were directed at first, and for a split second before they realized they might be forgetting themselves, a bit below.

The young woman who approached them was Cindy Aurum, granddaughter of Cid Sophiar and the one in charge of any repairs and tuning at Hammerhead. Always with practicality mind, she favored clothes which let her move freely and withstand the suffocating heat inside the garage. She wore daisy dukes and a yellow jacket with the Hammerhead logo on its back which, while more comfortable than normal overalls, she still needed to wear it half open, with almost nothing underneath. To avoid any misunderstanding, instead of normal underwear she opted to don a bright orange bikini and make it pass as part of the normal outfit.

Suffice to say that the daisy dukes greatly accentuated her slender legs, and that the open jacket had made many a client wish their car had broken before. It was also true, however, that it were actually her bright, yet down-to-business attitude, her work ethics and her extraordinary ability as a mechanic what made clients return time and time again to the Hammerhead.

Prompto got up with a jump as soon as he saw her approaching, and couldn’t say a single word afterwards.

“Now,” said the girl, looking around. “Which one’s the Prince?”

Upon hearing it, Noctis got up from behind the car.

“Aha! Hello, Your Highness,” she said, approaching him. “Congrats on your wedding!”

“Not hitched just yet,” he stammered. He wasn’t used to talking to people outside his closest circle, and this girl was very direct.

“Lady Lunafreya’s groom-to-be, here in Hammerhead,” she mused in wonder.

“Apologies for taking so long,” Ignis intervened.

“You’d best save your apologies for Paw-paw,” she chuckled as she examined the car, all her attention fixed on the vehicle.

“Well, that makes you…” Gladio said.

“Cindy. Cid’s grease-monkey granddaughter.”

“Roll ‘er in while I’m still young!” a gruff voice interrupted them.

They saw an old man approaching. He wasn’t tall, but his presence commanded authority. He was dressed like a man forty years younger, with dark slacks, a red jacket and a cap of the same color. Ignoring them, he went straight to the car and circled it, looking at her as if he were greeting an old friend.

“Didn’t your daddy tell ya?” he told Noctis. “She’s a custom classic, not some beat-up ol’ clunker.”

Cid planted himself in front of the prince and assessed him with a critical look. When the old man raised his face, Noctis could see a weathered, wrinkled face, half covered by a grey beard, and two keen brown eyes peered at him from below the bushy eyebrows.

“Prince Noctis,” Cid said.

“Eh, yeah.”

The old man chuckled.

“ _Prince_ ,” he repeated, shaking his head, strolling past him and still looking at the Regalia. “Like they took you old man and kicked the dignity out of him.”

“What?”

Noctis was baffled at this old man’s treatment, but Gladio found it most amusing, and he nodded, smiling in silence. Ignis said nothing and let the old man do his thing. Prompto, for his part, was too absorbed in gazing at Cindy to care about anything else.

“You got a long way to go, son,” Cid kept talking, caressing the Regalia. “And that slack jaw of yours is getting’ you nowhere fast.”

He finished assessing the damages and finally declared: “She’s gonna take a while. Y’all get her in and run along.”

Without another word, he walked back to the warehouse. Cindy was embarrassed and confused. This wasn’t how her granddad used to be. However, she just sighed and turned to their new clients with the smile that had made Hammerhead even more famous in the last years.

“Y’all heard him! Let’s get movin’. Right this way.”

After Cindy took the Regalia inside the warehouse, there was nothing else for them to do.

“And now we play the waiting game,” Ignis said.

“Never liked that game,” Prompto sighed.

“Never any good at it, either,” Noctis pointed out.

They had spent all their funds covering part of the repairing bill, even though the Yen, Insomnia’s currency, wasn’t valid outside the City. The rest of the world used Gil, and they were yet to earn a single one. Cindy, very kindly and after giving them a world map, offered to pay them if they killed some “varmints” which had been causing them trouble. She directed them northwest across the road and advised them to not stay out after dark, or daemons would attack them.

But before they left, Cindy looked left and right, and pressed a small handful of gil in Noctis’ hand.

“This oughta be enough for a place to stay,” she said. “Just between us, though. Don’t tell Paw-paw!”

Walking through the rocky plain, and after they could get Prompto to stop waving back at the garage, they soon discovered their enemies: giant scorpions, or “reapertails”, as Ignis informed them. Though slow moving, they could crawl through the sand with surprising speed. Prompto, never one for insects, large or small, flinched at seeing them. When Ignis assured him that, despite their size, their poisonous gland was nearly non-existent, the gunslinger retorted that poison wasn’t exactly his concern at that moment.

Gladio and Noctis got the upper hand in that combat, since the reapertails’ hard shells made them very resistant to Prompto’s guns and Ignis’ daggers. When they were finished, Noctis phone buzzed. It was Cindy, who told them of a man who had gone out hunting and hadn’t been heard of since.

“So,” Prompto said eagerly as they walked to the old shack Cindy had directed them to. “What’d Cindy say?”

“Needs us to find some _Dave_ guy.”

“He went missing?” Gladio asked.

“Not _missing_. Said he’s holed in that shack.”

The wind had picked up, raising dust and making them shield their eyes until they arrived at the shack, which wasn't more than an abandoned barn. It was empty, save for a small table pushed to the back. There were signs of a struggle and, without saying a word, they all thought the same. Edging near the table, Noctis saw some scrawled notes about a mutant beast the writer had called “bloodhorn”. He sighed, reviewing the notes and preparing to recover what remained of the unfortunate hunter.

“Noct!” Ignis screamed.

There was a howl at the shack’s door and when he turned around he saw a dark shadow upon him. He heard a gunshot and the beast fell to the ground, dead. Prompto had caught it in mid-air and, without missing a beat, he had his gun already trained at the beasts wrestling with Gladio, which also lay dead a second later.

“You okay?” Prompto asked his friends as he helped Noctis to his feet.

“We are now,” said Gladio, stepping back from the barn door and regrouping.

“Spoken too soon!” Ignis exclaimed as more of the beasts entered the shack.

Ignis identified them as “sabertusks”, canines which hunted in packs, not very strong and rather cowardly individually, but they posed a serious threat in large numbers. Noctis saw their unnaturally thin bodies, as if they weren’t more than skin and bones, the oversized fangs and the strange extensions protruding at each side of the back of their jaws. Ignis told them that they used their fangs and those protuberances to excavate their prey’s burrows to hunt. He also warned them that those beasts were always possessed by a ravenous hunger, no matter how much they ate.

Once all the sabertusks lay dead, Noctis decided to go search for the missing hunter, thinking that those beasts were responsible for his disappearance.

“What about the shack over there?” Gladio pointed when they were outside. The wind had subsided, and Noctis could distinguish a smaller house across a narrow dirt road.

As they approached, they could see there were more sabertusks prowling around the building, whining and scratching at the closed door. Their hopes renewed on that the man had barricaded himself inside, Noctis wanted to lunge at the creatures, catching them by surprise.

Reading his intentions, Ignis grabbed him by the arm, murmuring that he had a plan. Noctis was to warp to the nearby windmill and launch a surprise attack, while the other three distracted the animals.

The beasts were dealt with quickly and efficiently, and the ruckus made whoever was inside the house finally open the door.

They were greeted by the sight of a stocky, muscular man. His bearded face was drawn with tiredness and pain as he dragged his leg behind. His clothes were in a bad shape, even though they were made for dealing with the outdoors. Pouches hung from his belt, and Noctis could spy a hunting knife at his back. Two dog tags hung from his neck, the only clean thing about the man. Noctis had seen those back in Insomnia, though in the city they were treated more as a fashion statement by the populace. In the outside world, hunters wore them as a means to identify their remains if they failed a hunting mission.

“And look who’s in here,” Gladio greeted him. “The man of the hour. Dave, right? Been looking for you.”

“Didn’t mean to cause y’all any trouble,” Dave panted as he leant on the door’s frame. Noctis noticed the many tattoos on the man’s arms. “Been stuck here on account of my sprained ankle. Somethin’ funny ‘bout them varmints. I gave ‘em hell, but couldn’t finish the job. Still one mean mutt about.” He then looked at the group of young men, as if finally noticing them. “Y’all don’t look much like hunters, but whaddaya say? Put that puppy to rest for me?”

It seemed like a miserly thing to do, to ask for a reward, but they were in pinch, and Noctis had to decide quickly.

“Y’all got guts, that’s for sure,” the man smirked. “Lemme tell ya where I last saw him.”

The man pointed out in the map where the beast was, and then he sat heavily by the door, saying that he only needed some fresh air.

As they walked to their destination, Prompto murmured to Noctis.

“For a second I thought you were gonna forget to ask for cash!”

As they walked north, where the bloodhorn was holed up, Prompto sighed.

“Sometimes I wonder if we’ll ever sit inside that beautiful car again,” he said.

“Sitting most of the day was pretty nice,” Gladio observed.

“Napping was even better,” Noctis asserted. “There’s only so far a man can walk.”

“Our Crown City upbringing didn’t prepared us for this,” Prompto said.

“Pretend you’re walking to the car,” Ignis offered, not without a hint of sarcasm.

Of the four men, only Gladio had gone through extensive training in natural environment. Through what passed as wilderness inside Insomnia would have looked like a peaceful park to the outside denizens, he was accustomed to tracking down and getting his bearings without manmade signs.

Soon they reached an opening between two rocky walls, which circled a small enclosed valley. From the outside, they could hear the bellowing of a beast reverberating in the walls.

“That’s a dualhorn?” Noctis asked when they slowly approached the opening.

The beast was bigger than a transport van and, doing justice to its name, two giant horns protruded from above the snout, and two smaller ones from below. Something was wrong with the animal, however. It roared and shook its head, and sometimes made as if to charge at something only it could see. Something black and viscous dripped from the mouth and, as pointed out by Ignis, the reddish coloration around the eyes wasn’t normal.

Whatever was happening to the beast, it was suffering, and killing it would feel like an act of mercy. For the moment, though, it seemed either distracted or tired, for it didn’t move. Noctis tried approaching it head on, when he felt a restraining hand on his shoulder.

“Wait a sec!” Gladio ordered as he stepped before him, his sword ready.

“What? Scared, big guy?” Prompto taunted him.

“You oughta be, too,” Gladio grumbled. “Thing’s vicious.”

“Looks tame to me,” the gunslinger insisted.

As if to answer Prompto’s guessing, the beast seemed to have detected them, and charged head on. They all stepped aside except Gladio, who stood there, sword ready, until the last moment. When the horns were inches away from him, he sidestepped to his left, cutting the animal as it rushed by.

The dualhorn fell heavily on its side and both Prompto and Noctis cheered, but Ignis, more observant, warned them to ready their weapons: The cut Gladio had delivered to the beast’s neck was mending on its own.

As the animal got to its feet again, they were all ready and surrounding it.

The battle was harder than they had anticipated, having to make good use of Noctis’ warping abilities and their magic. At one point Gladio had to grab Prompto by the arm and shove him aside, lest the gunslinger was gored by the horns. After that, Gladio centered his efforts on breaking the horns, but he only succeeded with one before Noctis delivered at long last the killing blow. When the dualhorn finally fell dead, they wondered how Dave could have thought to take it all on his own.

They received another call on their way out of the enclosure. Cindy announced that Dave had contacted them and that the Hunters would send someone to pick him up. To add to the good news, the repairs were finished.

“So, who’s next behind the wheel?” Gladio asked on their way back to the garage.

“Ignis should take it and never let go,” said Prompto.

“It helps that he can keep four eyes on the dash.”

“I couldn’t even keep one,” the gunslinger remembered with embarrassment his brief time behind the wheel.

“Not sure I’d do any better,” Noctis admitted.

“Put me in the driver’s seat,” Ignis sighed. He was, admittedly, the best driver.

“Good,” said Gladio. “’Cause I need the legroom at the back.”

One of the things they had as an unspoken agreement was that Gladio always had to travel in the back seat. He was a big man, and couldn’t learn how to drive back in Insomnia because no car model was spacious enough to accommodate him.

The unmistakable shape of the Hammerhead appeared at last behind a hill just as the last rays of sun tinted it with a reddish hue. Without uttering a word, they all quickened their pace when they realized how late it was. Just as the sun set, they arrived at the premises in time for the artificial lights to turn on. Cindy welcomed them as she closed the garage’s gate, her Paw-paw having turned in already that day. After thanking her for her kindness, Cindy pointed them to the nearby caravan, saying it was ready for them to use.

As a wrap-up to that long day of hunting and tracking, they could finally stretch and relax, and Ignis could use the small kitchen to cook supper. There they could chat, interchange impressions about what happened, and plan what to do in the following days. Gladio also told them about what he had learned of Cid and Cindy back at the gas station.

“… _Like a father to her_?” Noctis repeated with incredulity when Gladio was finished.

“Ever since they got back, Cid’s been the only one looking after her.”

“Rather more than a middling mechanic can handle,” Ignis observed.

“All things considered,” Prompto mused. “I’d say she turned out okay.”

“Like any girl, you just need to treat her right,” Gladio said, and they all knew he talked from experience.

“Treat her wrong and Cid’ll stuff his wrench where the sun doesn’t shine!” Prompto laughed.

“Take care of the car,” said Ignis, entirely misunderstanding the conversation. “And it will take care of us.”

“Yeah,” said Noctis, stifling a smile as he drank his coffee. “The car…”

“How did you get so much info?” Prompto asked all of a sudden.

“While you were all gawkin’ at the expositors I was chattin’ with the vendor,” said Gladio, stretching on his chair. “People on the outside are not that bad, if you know how to talk to them.”

There was a joke running around in the Crownsguard that Gladio could stop a fight by simply chatting the enemy up, and that the King should have sent him to the Niffs to negotiate the terms of peace. It was also very useful for picking up girls, to Prompto’s chagrin.

Once they finished their last round of coffee while they played videogames, they finally turned in, falling asleep shortly after.

Noctis woke up in the middle of the night to see Prompto looking out the windows. There was a haunted look on his friend’s face. As silently as he could, he got up and approached him.

“What’s wrong?” he whispered, trying not to jump scare him.

Prompto flinched, not expecting anyone to be out of bed. “Sorry, dude,” he stammered, forcing a smile. “Just… thinking.”

At that moment, they heard a low, rumbling roar, and the sound of screeching metal. Prompto gave out a small yelp and cowered under the window.

“Dude, that’s okay,” Noctis knelt at his side, putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Lights keep them away. They won’t reach us. And if they do, we can fight.”

“Can we?” Prompto whispered.

“Just go back to bed,” Noctis urged. “Besides, if a daemon wakes us up, count on Gladio to shred them to bits. He’s always in a bad mood when he doesn’t sleep well. And if we don’t shut up, he’ll do that to _us_.”

Prompto chuckled weakly. Daemons were a scary thought for anyone from Insomnia, and even Noctis felt that unsettling sensation at the pit of his stomach when hearing them, but they had weapons and magic, which was far more than any average citizen or soldier could had access to. In addition, there was a whole branch of the army, the Kingsglaive, dedicated to combating daemons. The prince still had doubts, and guessed he had yet to become even stronger, but he took comfort in being at least one step ahead of everyone else.

At last the two went back to their beds, and Noctis fell asleep right away, though his dreams were plagued with dark forms prowling around a circle of light.

The next morning, they gathered at the cafeteria for breakfast. There were a fair amount of people there, even though it was just past sunrise. People hurried their travels during the day, so as not being caught by dusk in the middle of nowhere. The cook was a bald, dark skinned man by the name of Takka. He paid no heed to Nocits and his companions when they first entered the establishment, so busy he was with orders, but when they addressed him he jumped out of his skin. After apologizing with a nervous laugh, he offered them all the hospitality he was capable of.

Aside from a fulfilling breakfast, they also learned a bit more about Dave and the Hunters League: When the Lucis army could no longer protect the lands outside Insomnia, the Crownsguard had split, and those who chose to remain outside banded together to protect the population from both savage beasts and daemons. It was an extremely dangerous job - hardly retired from old age - but someone had to do it. The men and women of the Meldacio League were the heirs of those Crownsguards: they were hardy and very skilled in combat, survival and tracking, making them the de facto protectors of the populace outside the Wall.

Each restaurant and café had a billboard with available hunts for anyone willing to take them. The jobs were dangerous, but they would be paid, and it would serve them as much needed practice. Despite having enough money for the moment, they kept it in mind in case they needed to gather more money before departing for Altissia.

Cindy was waiting for them, with the Regalia glistening under the sun.

“Ain’t she purdy?” she beamed, showing her good work.

“She’s almost too pretty for the road,” Gladio observed, though his eyes were fixed on the girl.

Prompto cut whatever Gladio was about to say next by announcing that they had to get a picture with the car. Taking out his camera, he shoved it into Cindy’s hands, and asked her to take the photo. She gladly complied, and stepped back so they could pose for it.

Then Cindy asked them for a favor on their way to Galdin Quay, something which Prompto quickly agreed to without letting the others speak first.

His three friends were thankful that the task was as easy as to deliver a package on their way to Galdin Quay, at a motel on the next crossroads. Later, while they waited for the payment for their trouble, they heard a dog barking.

A black dog approached them with the confidence of an animal who knows the humans it comes closer to.

“Umbra!” Noctis exclaimed.

Aside from being the Oracle’s companions, Umbra and Pryna had served as messengers between Luna and Noctis ever since they were separated at Tenebrae. Umbra especially, had been tasked to deliver a certain notebook back and forth from Insomnia to Tenebrae.

During the Prince’s stay in Tenebrae, Luna had presented him one day with a leather bound notebook where she used to write and dry sylleblossoms, the local flower. She asked Noctis to take the notebook with him when he went away, and return it to her once he had written or drawn something.

At eight, the child didn’t understand very well the implications, nor did he question the motives; he just happily agreed to it.

Things never go as planned, however, and the two children were separated sooner than they expected. Umbra then served as messenger and took the notebook to a distraught Noctis. Suffice to say that his correspondence with the young Oracle was what hastened his recuperation.

He opened the book, careful that his friends didn’t peer over his shoulder.

She had made a beautiful illustration of the effigy of the first recorded Oracle, surrounded by sylleblossoms. A text at its foot read: “It’s come time for me to leave Tenebrae.”

He took out a pen, and wrote a brief answer: “Finally going to see you after all these years.”

Noctis would normally add a picture or a summary of the things that had happened to him. That was how Lady Lunafreya could finally put a face to Pryna’s savior, when Noctis included a photo of himself and Prompto in high school. But for now, he had to keep things brief.

He put the notebook back into the leather bag Umbra carried.

“All set,” he told him, scratching him behind the ears. “Take care out there.”

“I know,” Prompto joked. “You’re not gonna tell me.”

“Then don’t ask.”

“What was that about?”

Noctis only sighed.

“You don’t say,” Prompto kept poking his friend.

But Noctis didn’t say anything more. He tried his best to look cool before others, even if they were his friends, but the truth was that each time Luna was brought up in a conversation his heart missed a beat. The thought of meeting with a full grown woman was something he was yet to come to terms to. He had to, at least, look the part of the Crown Prince.


	7. Crowe

**BOOK 1: KINGSGLAIVE**

**CHAPTER 6 - CROWE**

_ At the Palace _

Nyx walked down the corridor to the Crownsguard office after taking Lady Lunafreya back to her quarters at the Caelum Via, with the rest of the Niflheim delegation. Driving important guests around wasn’t exactly what he had expected from his duties, even though it felt good being far away from the western gate.

“I trust the reunion was a happy one,” Drautos said, walking out of another corridor and joining him.

“Has she been a hostage of Niflheim all this time?” Nyx asked. Under other circumstances he might have cracked a subtle joke about how the Captain seemed to have been waiting for him, maybe to see if his subordinate had screwed up and somehow lost the Princess. But now other things occupied his mind.

“She's a symbol of the peace. That's all I'm told.”

“Doesn't sound like it,” Nyx commented. “Sounds like she's here for something bigger than that.”

“Your orders are to protect her,” Drautos reminded him sternly. Normally his Captain would have accepted that he suspected the empire and its intentions, and would have let him investigate any clue. “Not to look, not to listen, not to think. Understood?”

Not now. The peace treaty not only implied yielding lands, but also offering the Niffs their unconditional trust, and that included having the Kingsglaive with their hands tied. No wonder Drautos’ frown was deeper that morning; his cellphone suddenly ringing in the middle of a conversation only worsened his humor. He answered it angrily, but then his expression changed.

**xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx**

Nyx ran as fast as he could to the Kingsglaive’s HQ infirmary. Libertus was at the door, screaming at one of the doctors.

“Get the hell out of my way!” he bellowed. “That's my friend you got in there, damn it!”

“Sir, you can't go in until the examination has ended.”

“What examination?” Libertus pushed the medic aside with his crutch. “What the hell’s going on?”

Just as he was lunging for the door, Nyx caught him.

“Hey! Hey, take it easy, big guy.”

“These bastards rushed Crowe in there the moment she got back!” Libertus protested. “And now they won't let me in to see her.”

He shook off Nyx and lunged inside.

The room was in silence. He had hoped to see her in a bed, with machines attached to her body, bleeping. That was the worst case scenario in his mind.

He was greeted instead with a body in a bag, under the cold light of the morgue. The doctors, startled by the noise outside, hadn’t zipped up the bag and Crowe’s face could still be seen.

Dropping his crutches, Libertus limped to the operation table.

Her skin was translucent already, only broken by the dark smudged eyeliner, as tears had run down her cheeks and dried before her demise. Her formerly reddish-brown eyes were veiled with the pallor of death, and they had been frozen in a look of fright and pain.

With a trembling hand, Libertus caressed her cold brow before collapsing at the edge of the table, sobbing.

Nyx dragged him out of the morgue to the training pit. He needed air, and the place would be empty of probing glances.

They sat at the edge of the pit, their feet dangling in the void. Libertus had fallen silent, his eyes fixed on some point in the distance. The blow had been too hard for him.

Captain Drautos appeared with a subordinate carrying a cardboard box. He took the box himself and dismissed the man.

“Crowe’s personal effects,” he said curtly, handing them to Nyx. “Do with them as you see fit.”

“So, what kind of mission did you really send her on?” Libertus voice was strangely even and low. “No glaive winds up dead on a standard escort.”

“I'll see the armistice does not interfere with a full investigation,” Drautos promised, always with the coldness of a high officer. “She was a good soldier. Her death will not go unanswered.”

With that, Drautos turned around and left them alone.

“What a life, uh?” Libertus mused. “She was brought up an orphan. Run out of her village,” he chuckled wryly. “I still remember the first time I saw her. Scrawny little thing, all covered in dirt. Not a friend in the world. But those eyes…” he choked with the lump in his throat. “Damn. There was something about those eyes.”

Nyx didn’t interrupt him. He knew that, at that moment, Libertus heart was breaking.

He also remembered Crowe when she first stepped into the Kingsglaive Headquarters, with the cheekiness of a teenager who demanded to be given a weapon and sent to the front right away. The office staff tried to shoo her away, but Drautos gave her a single glance, his countenance never changing, and told her she was in if she endured the training. She did it. Her eyes burnt like wildfire and, when she mastered magic, that was what sprouted from her thin fingers.

“She deserved better,” Libertus kept talking, now in tears. “And I would've done anything to give it to-”

He could speak no more. Instead, in a fit of rage, he ripped the glaive’s insignia from his military jacket and threw it away; then he painfully got up and limped with his crutches to the exit.

“Libertus, wait!”

Nyx stopped him with a hand to his chest.

“Crowe died a glaive. You can still honor her by fighting as one.”

His friend batted his hand away in anger.

“You're dumber than me sometimes, you know that?” he murmured. “Don’t you get it?” then he screamed. “Lucis killed Crowe!”

When Nyx didn’t say anything, Libertus limped past him, hitting the ground heavily with his crutches.

“Go back to the castle,” he said, turning around for the last time. “Tell the King there’s no peace to be had from throwing the weak to the wolves. I’ll fight my own fight from here on out. See you around, _hero_.”

He spat the last word, and turned away from him.

Nyx was left alone in the training grounds. Or so he thought. All glaives had known of Crowe’s death, and their argument had been witnessed by Tredd, Sonitus Bellum, the weapons specialist, and Axis Arra, who never got too far away from the other two. After Libertus stormed out, Tredd made a sign to the other glaives, who disappeared into the HQ corridors.

_ That afternoon. _

Nyx’ could barely hear the rain pouring outside his apartment, tapping insistently on the windows. He was going through Crowe’s possessions, now that there was no one else left to do it, and it was more taxing than he had expected.

She had been a tough girl, one the other glaives had taken care not to cross, but there were details which contrasted with that image, like the charm dangling from her cellphone. It was that of Malbuddy, a cartoon character very famous among Insomnian kids. It was a small Malboro who had many comical misadventures but, somehow, always got the upper hand.

Her watch’s screen kept blinking and the two hours were incorrect, maybe malfunctioning after being battered.

Then he found the hairpin she was supposed to deliver to Lady Lunafreya. It was finely crafted of gold, with a white stone set in the middle.

Their last interchange still echoed on his mind, how he had joked about Crowe ever wanting to wear something as fancy as that.

And just like that, she was gone. No family to mourn for her, with a simple stone slab at the military cemetery, and her name and two dates as the only reminder that she had ever existed. That was the life of a glaive. That was what they had enlisted for. To renounce their own persona for the sake of everyone else.

Even the other glaives must have known that truth, because no one had mentioned her that day. Either that or they didn’t care: Crowe had a very strong personality which clashed with others, especially during the previous days. However, that didn’t excuse that he and Drautos had been the only ones present at her brief funeral, with Libertus away from the glaives and the others too busy with the treaty, but things were as they were, and he had come to accept it.

**The eve of the signing ceremony**

The Caelum Via was the most luxurious hotel in all Insomnia, and one of its tallest skyscrapers. It had a very expensive restaurant on its roof, famous for the giant aquarium sitting in the upper terrace. Such a place was the one chosen by the King to entertain his guests from Niflheim. Fireworks adorned the clear sky and an atmosphere of contained happiness hung in the air.

Emperor Iedolas Aldercapt ascended the stairs leading to the upper terrace, his retinue always close to him. King Regis was waiting for him, without personal escort, even though glaives had been posted all around the place. Even Captain Drautos was on guard duty.

“A most grand reception, King Regis,” Iedolas complimented, signaling his escort to remain behind as he approached the King. “You honor all of Niflheim.”

“Oh, the honor is ours, Emperor Aldercapt,” the King smiled. “You have ventured far to grace us with your presence.”

Iedolas extended his arms, as if trying to take in everything surrounding them.

“It was the very least I could do.”

Regis bowed in gratitude.

“Tomorrow it will be a historic day for both our nations,” Iedolas continued. “And your Insomnia is truly a marvel. My own cities pale in comparison. I pray we are able to take away much from this visit.”

Regis had to make a titanic effort to maintain his composure, only allowing himself a small smile. Diplomacy hadn’t been his forte back when he was young, but age and experience had shaped him. He was glad, however, to have been kept both Clarus and Cor away from that reception.

Leaning on the balustrade, Chancellor Ardyn Izunia observed the other guests in silence. While the other Empire diplomats and dignitaries didn’t hide their thoughts about Lucians, even if they kept them behind the doors of their expensive hotel suites, Ardyn said nothing. Whatever he thought of Lucis was anyone’s guess, though nobody ever questioned his loyalty to the Empire, given that Iedolas Aldercapt himself kept him so close to his persona.

Raising the glass of champagne he had been served, he seemed to be toasting an invisible companion, but he was looking through it at a certain Lady which had caught his eye: Lady Lunafreya.

She was casually approaching a soldier, the one who had escorted her that morning.

“I'm afraid we were never properly introduced yesterday,” she commented when she was near.

“I'm afraid it's going to have to wait, Your Highness,” Nyx said. “I’m on guard duty.”

“Then surely there's no safer place for me to be,” she insisted, smiling softly.

Nyx had to suppress an impatient sigh.

“May I ask your name?”

“Nyx,” he almost stammered. “Nyx Ulric.”

“There is something else I wish to ask you, Nyx Ulric,” she kept pressing. “King Regis said he sent one of your order to come find me. I should like to offer my thanks in person. Where might I find this brave soldier?”

Nyx shook his head.

“Oh,” she only said, understanding it. “I didn’t know… I am so sorry…”

“Do not be,” he dismissed it. The last thing he wanted to do was talking about Crowe. But the Princess reminded him of something he wanted to do.

He didn’t know why he carried it with him, but he took the hairpin from his pocket and offered it to her.

“Here,” he said softly as he placed the jewel in her hands. “She was carrying this. It was meant for you.”

Lady Lunafreya stared at the comb and, against Nyx expectations, held it close to her chest.

“For me?”

“Keep it. She would've wanted you to have it.”

“I will carry it with me always,” she said. “Thank you.”

Captain Drautos had seen the whole conversation and Ulric giving the hairpin to the Lady. He sighed, standing to attention once again. It was typical of that lad to finish what others started, be it slaying a monster, or delivering a bauble. With luck, that would be the only noteworthy event that evening.

_ Somewhere in the slums _

The dim light of the abandoned arcade flickered uncomfortably. The man he had contacted signaled Libertus to go to the backroom while he remained at the door.

The ex-glaive limped painfully, now using a single crutch. He had discarded his uniform and wore civilian clothes. But there was a difference this time: around his neck hung a necklace typical of Galahd. Libertus rarely wore that adornment since his arrival in Insomnia, if only to mingle more effectively among the lucians. He didn’t care anymore whether he stood out like a sore thumb.

“Do you have any idea what the peace implies?” came a male voice from the backroom. “It means our homes are gone. All of them. Forever.”

Grimacing in pain, Libertus took two tablets from the flask which always accompanied him those days, and he entered the backroom. Three men and a woman sat there. They all looked up as soon as they heard Libertus.

“Heard I could find some treaty haters here,” he simply said. “I come to the right place?”

The man who had been talking before smiled at him. He wore a nice, lavender shirt, even if his other clothes had seen better times.

“You certainly have,” he said. “Everyone say hello to a man who spends his days in the loyal service of our good king.”

“ _Spent_ ,” Libertus corrected him. “Those days are over. I'm done listening to that bastard's lies. He may sit on a throne, but he ain't no king, least not of mine.”

“Well, then,” the leader said. “Welcome to the Resistance, brother. I hope you're here to talk?”

“What do you wanna know?”

_ Later that night _

Lunafreya strode along the restaurant’s balcony, finding some peace at last in her solitude. The soirée had stretched well into the night and little by little the illustrious guests had taken their leave and headed for their rooms. The dinner had been as sumptuous as one would have expected from such an event, but she doubted many people had truly enjoyed it. She had been the first one to be escorted to her room after her brother had given the order, excusing herself before king Regis and assuring him that her duties as the Oracle could take their toll on her health if she wasn’t careful.

She was grateful to her brother for that order, much to her own surprise. Her fellow diners had been all senior officials from the empire, people she was acquainted with already and with whom she could make small conversation. But there was that man, the Chancellor. He sat some tables away, though each time she looked in that direction she could feel his eyes fixed on her. If she gazed directly at him, however, she discovered that he was chatting animatedly with the people around him, but when she looked away she could feel his eyes again on her back.

As her bodyguards shepherded her away, Lunafreya dared to steal a glance at the guards. Nyx hadn’t moved from his post near the aquarium, but at that moment he seemed to be receiving orders from a heavy-built man in a black and dark red uniform: Captain Titus Drautos, if her memory served her well.

Now, long after all the guests had taken their leaves, she snuck out from her room and returned to the balcony. The hotel employees had also finished their chores, and she was greeted by a cleared terrace, with the chairs and tables piled up in a corner and neatly covered by canvases. The cold air helped clear her mind as she looked down at Insomnia. Beautiful Insomnia. Bright Insomnia. The inexpugnable fortress the Founder King had built to protect the Crystal. Generations of Lucian kings waiting for the Chosen One to be born, tasked with protecting the Crystal and making the kingdom flourish until the time was right. Generations of Oracles tasked with keeping the scourge at bay until the Chosen One would deliver Humanity from their suffering.

So it had been ordained.

She looked at the full moon, thinking about Noctis.

What happened to her had little meaning now. All her life she had been meant to serve others, a mission she took with pride and joy. But her heart was that of a human and, with time, it came to harbor its own expectations.

Now, however, those hopes she had nurtured over the years had come to nothing, and she was left with her duty as the sole focus of her life. However, she would never utter a single protest. She liked easing the suffering around her, her only complain being that her powers were never enough to completely cure the scourge, and yet…

Sometimes Luna felt like her heart was torn in two. She loved seeing the smiling faces of those alleviated from the scourge and their families, their eyes full of renewed hope for a life which wouldn’t be cut short. But part of her wanted some of that happiness too, if only for a short time. That was the only thing she had ever asked, to be granted just a fragment of that for herself. And when she thought she might have had it at her fingertips, the gods decided to snatch it away from her grasp.

But, who was she to protest? The gods were sovereigns and the Oracle was but their servant.

Luna closed her eyes, fighting back the tears as her lips formed a prayer.

“To what god do you pray?” a distorted, booming voice sounded behind her. “You, the slave of fate. Abandon your prayers. The gods do not listen.”

She spun around. A tall figure clad in a magitek armor was approaching her with heavy, slow steps. She knew that armor, but it had been a long time since she had seen it for the last time.

“General Glauca,” surprised as she was, Luna could keep her voice even. “Why are you here?”

“You are far too clever to have ever believed in this peace,” he said, closing the distance between them. When Luna tried to go away, he grabbed her arm, forcing her to look at him. “Pity you couldn't see your beloved Noctis. You have another purpose.”

“I'm not here for Niflheim,” she declared, her blue eyes burning with defiance.

“No. You are here for me.”

“You?” she raised her eyebrows, not breaking eye contact with where she guessed his eyes were. “I do not understand.”

“Come tomorrow, you will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took some liberties during the last segment. We never see what happened at the dinner and who sat where, but I think it would have been a nice way to link the movie to the game.


	8. "A Man of no Consequence"

**BOOK 1: KINGSGLAIVE**

**CHAPTER 7 – “A MAN OF NO CONSEQUENCE”**

**The day of the signing**

_ On the road to Galdin Quay _

Ignis let the Regalia’s hood down. The first rays of sun felt nice against the skin, and there was something in the air, a strange scent. It was the ocean, Ignis informed his three friends. And, before Noctis could ask, as they exited a long stretch of high natural rocky walls, they were greeted with the sight of it.

“Hey, I see the sea!” Prompto was the first one to yell it.

“I _sea_ it, too,” Noctis joked.

“That’s Galdin Quay,” Ignis informed them.

“Kinda wanna go for a dip,” Gladio commented.

“That a big mountain behind it?” Noctis asked, pointing at a massive rock form in the distance.

“No,” said Ignis. “It’s an island.”

Noctis kept staring at the island. It had a funny shape, as if two rocky wings sprouted from the sea. A name kept dancing in his mind, from his History lessons. Angelgard? Yes, that was the name. That was the place the gods held council in ancient times, and humans were forbidden to ever set foot there.

“Nobody goes to Galdin for an island, though,” said Prompto. “They go to kick back and get massages!”

“And savor the seafood,” Ignis pointed out. “It’s famously delicious.”

“Sounds great,” Noctis was, for the first time since they left Insomnia, thrilled.

“Somethin’ to look forward to,” Gladio agreed.

Galdin Quay was a quiet bay where swimming and fishing were enjoyable due to its calm, warm waters. The main attraction, however, was the restaurant sitting at the end of a long pier, adjacent to the jetty where travelers waited for the ferry, so people had to cross the restaurant to have access to their transportation. It offered excellent seafood, lodgings and massages to relieve stress. It wasn’t cheap either, but they had earned enough money to pay at least for a meal and keep some money for their stay in Altissia.

“Welcome to Galdin Quay,” a staff member greeted them at the entrance.

So distracted were they with everything they saw that they didn’t notice the man walking towards them until he addressed the four men.

“I’m afraid you are out of luck,” the man said.

“Are we?” Noctis asked.

“The boats bring you here,” he pointed behind him, the sea breeze ruffling his already disarranged reddish hair.

“What about them?” Prompto chimed in, as Gladio frowned. There was something about that man none of them liked. Maybe it was the too familiar way he addressed them, maybe the fact that he was dressed in a dark coat with a scarf around his shoulders in warm weather. Or that it was difficult to say if what his coat had on the shoulders were mere fashion accessories or actual pauldrons. Or maybe the stark contrast between his sharp clothes and his unkempt stubble and ruffled hair.

“Well,” the man continued, a mischievous glint on his green-amber eyes. “They won’t take you forth.”

“And what’s your story?” Gladio asked suspiciously.

“I’m an impatient traveler,” he said casually, strutting past them. He was as tall as Gladio, and the young Shield could already see he was not weak. “Ready to turn ship. The ceasefire is getting us nowhere.”

Then he turned, flinging something towards Noctis. Gladio caught it instead. It was a silver coin.

“What’s this?” he asked. “Some sort of souvenir?”

“Consider it your allowance,” the man purred as he smirked.

“Yeah, and who’s _allowing_ us?” Gladio echoed, slowly pacing towards him.

The man didn’t flinch. Instead, he smiled broadly, extending his arms.

“A man of no consequence,” he said as he turned around and went away.

Gladio said nothing. He had always been good at reading people, but he had no idea whether that man was talking seriously or not,. The encounter had left the four friends a bit baffled and very much frustrated.

“You believe what that guy said about the port being closed?” Prompto asked his friends.

“I’m skeptical,” Ignis said. “Though I won’t discount the possibility.”

“I say we go check it out for ourselves,” grunted Gladio, still irritated.

However, when they crossed the restaurant and arrived at the jetty, no ships could be seen.

“Aw, man,” Prompto moaned. “Not a ship in sight. What gives?”

Other would-be passengers gathered around the notice board, reading the official statements. Noctis and his friends decided to go back to the restaurant and ask the staff about it, when a blond man collared them.

“According to my sources,” he said, with a thick altissian accent. “The Empire’s giving strict orders not to let any vessels leave the docks in Altissia.”

He smiled when he saw he had caught the attention of the four men. “Real shame if you were late to your own wedding. Right, Prince Noctis? Name’s Dino, by the way. Pleasure.

“The crown prince of Lucis, bounty-hunting in his fancy car…” he mused. “Surely you didn’t think it’d go unnoticed? At least not by this reporter. Lucky for you, this reporter has integrity. If you wanna remain incognito, I’ll respect your wish… in exchange for a favor.”

Noctis sighed. This was the last thing they needed. He decided it would be useful to at least listen to him.

“What do you want?” he answered in an unfriendly tone.

“Hey, I knew you’d come around!” Dino exclaimed, impervious to the Prince’s frown. “Lemme see your map.”

He marked a point, in the stretch with high cliffs they had traversed before reaching the Quay. Dino needed some raw gemstones of a deep red color. _Garnets_ he called them. But, as powerful as the pen was, it wasn’t of much use against the monsters plaguing the zone, and that was why he had asked them for that favor. In exchange, Dino promised to use his contacts and secure them passage for the next day to Altissia.

Not having many options, the four friends made their way to the parking lot.

“He’s really got your number, Noct,” said Prompto as soon as they were out of earshot.

“Not like we made much effort to keep it secret,” Gladio pointed out.

“Even if we had,” Ignis reasoned. “The press always finds a way. We needn’t befriend him, but we’d best not make him our enemy.”

It was still early in the morning. They could fulfill the quest and be back before noon, and then they could at least try some of the dishes from the restaurant.

****

“So,” said Prompto when they were reaching the Regalia. “You thinking to fairy tale Lady Lunafreya back to the Crown City?”

“Nah, no need to rush to happily ever after.”

“Wow. I still can’t believe you’re actually tying the knot, dude! How does it feel now that it’s finally happening?”

“Fine, I guess?”

“C’mon, you can’t fool me. Any guy would be over the moon to marry her!”

“No big deal.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

Reaching the cliff was an easy task. Gladio guided them again through the trough terrain. What wouldn’t be easy was bypassing the giant bird peacefully sleeping on the plateau where Dino assured the gemstones were.

Noctis had seen in the History museum skeletons and life-scale reconstructions of behemoths. This bird dwarfed them, being probably one of its few natural predators. The feathers were jet black with the belly of a pure white. The long beak would have given the head a graceful profile, if it weren’t for the teeth protruding from it at seemingly random intervals.

Whichever the case, they didn’t have time to wait for the bird to wake up and go, and even then, he might decide he would like to taste the four humans lurking around his nap place. So they made their way as slowly and silently as they could around the bird, towards the gemstone ore.

Things would have been easier, however, if Prompto had stopped flinching at every movement from the bird.

The gemstones came out easily from the ore. They weren’t the deep red Dino had shown them, but Ignis assured Noctis that, once they were cleaned from their impurities, cut and polished, they would look exactly as the journalist wanted.

At that moment, the bird stirred and woke up. They all readied their weapons, while searching for an escape route. However, the giant bird extended his wings, let out a deafening roar, and took to the sky, not looking back.

“Off it goes…” Ignis said, relieved.

They made their return to Galdin Quay as quickly as they could, not wishing to encounter more local fauna.

“Nice work, kid!” Dino celebrated. “Sorry for giving you such a hard time. I just had to get my hands on this, even if it meant blackmail. You understand, don’t ya? Y’see, I’m a reporter by day and an amateur jeweler by night. These elusive little beauty’s gonna become a masterpiece. To make it up with you, I’ll share a little scoop. That special coin you got, it commemorates the Oracle’s ascension. That guy,” he said, referring to the strange man with the dark coat. “He was tossing ’em out to everyone. Musta picked ‘em up back in Niflheim. And speaking of freebies, here’s one from me,” he handed them a bangle. “Come back if you wanna buy more!”

The bracelet was of simple yet beautiful workmanship, with garnet stones set on it and a filigree running along the borders and around each stone. Gladio kept it for himself, knowing that garnes boosted one’s habilities in combat.

“I doubt a souvenir like that could make its way into the hands of an ordinary citizen,” Ignis commented, referring to the Oracle Coin.

“Well,” said Prompto. “It’s our pocket change now.”

“Let’s learn from history and book a place this time,” Gladio pointed out.

When they stepped into the restaurant again it was already past sundown, and the many lights, both artificial and from the candles in the tables, gave the place a warmth, dreamy aura.

“Wow,” Prompto said, looking around after Noctis made the room reservations at the desk. “This place is so romantic!”

There was a very brief interchange of glances among the other three. They all knew whom Prompto was talking about at that moment, and they all knew that such train of thought had to be cut short. It was for his own good.

Gladio threw his arm around Prompto’s neck, almost binding him in a lock.

“And you get to enjoy it with _us_ ,” he pointed out.

“ _All_ _three_ of us,” Noctis added, elbowing him in the side.

“You…” Ignis said, adjusting his glasses. “Are a lucky man.”

Prompto chuckled weakly and reddened slightly as he shrugged Gladio’s arm off.

“Okay, fine… sorry my mind went elsewhere,” he said.

“C’mon,” Noctis cheered him up, giving him a slap in the shoulder. “We will be back here in no time!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This whole chapter takes place during the peace signing in Kingsglaive. I also included one of my personal favorite party banters. Please, don't mind me.


	9. Rescue Mission

**BOOK 1: KINGSGLAIVE**

**CHAPTER 8 – RESCUE MISSION**

Nyx dressed up for work that morning while he hurriedly drank his second cup of coffee. He couldn’t stop tossing and turning during the first hours of the previous night, to then oversleep and having to skip his morning training. As he put his boots on, his eyes fell on Crowe’s watch, still sitting on his desk. The numbers didn’t flash anymore and they displayed two impossible hours: now the seconds ran faster than normal and one hour number was higher than twenty four.

He didn’t bother with it, however. There was much to do, and he had lost already too much time going his own way. He took his jacket and stormed out of his apartment.

At the Citadel, a crowd had been gathering before sunrise. People from the upper city didn’t want to miss this historical moment.

 _“Niflheim contingent has left the hotel,”_ a voice announced through the Citadel’s speakers. _“Less than three hours until the ceremony. Bolster the citadel guard.”_

Nyx paced back and forth before the Palace's main entrance. From his vantage point at the top of the stairs, he could see the still empty plaza and the crowd slowly gathering beyond the closed iron gates. All was tranquil so far. Too much for his taste. He hated guard duty.

His headset buzzed.

 _“Nyx,”_ Luche’s voice broke the silence. _“Is the Princess with you?”_

“No. I'm on duty at the Citadel.”

_“Well, the Niffs just left for the ceremony. And she wasn't with them.”_

Something clicked on his mind. He cut the conversation and darted towards the gates. To hell with insubordination.

Reaching his home almost out of breath, he took Crowe’s watch. Of course, it didn’t tell the time: they were coordinates. He lost not time contacting Pelna and filling him in.

 _“A homing beacon?”_ his companion asked incredulously.

“Yeah,” Nyx said as he ran back to the Palace. “I'll send the coordinates now. Can you pinpoint a location for me?”

_“Sure, but it sounds like a wild-goose chase. Guess you got some free time on your hands, huh?”_

“Guess I do,” he smirked. “For better or worse.”

Time was running out. The roads were empty as people gathered around the Citadel's gates, many of them protesters from the foreigners’ quarter. Pelna found out what Nyx was looking for, at long last.

_“Those coordinates are about 20 miles south of Insomnia. Outside the Wall. What the hell was Crowe doing all the way out there?”_

“No, no. They sent her to-”

To escort Lady Lunafreya from Tenebrae to Lucis. Nyx stopped dead on his hurried return to the Palace, as something dawned on him.

“I need another favor, Pelna,” he said, resuming his running. “Pull those coordinates up on the radar… and let me know what you find.”

_“On it.”_

So engrossed Nyx was on his personal hunt that he failed to notice that one of the protesters he passed by had to walk with a crutch, and around his neck he wore a traditional Galahdan necklace.

_“You're thinking this is all a big deal now, huh?”_

“Yeah, too big to ignore.”

He finally reached the gates. The guards tried to stop him, but once they realized he was a glaive they let him go. He kept walking, unflinching and never looking back, as every time he was engrossed in a hunt. He didn’t notice the man with a lavender shirt wandering among the crowd, not really paying attention to either the giant screens or the spectacle around him.

At the Citadel Gates, Petra Fortis instructed his men about the duties they would have that day, and reminded them they weren’t at the City Gates.

Once he was inside the Palace, Nyx tried to contact Command, but to no avail.

 _“Jackpot, Nyx,”_ Pelna’s voice said. _“There’s a whole fleet of airships sitting at that spot.”_

“Niflheim.”

_“Yup, and from the looks of it I'd say they're headed to war.”_

“Where’s the Captain?”

_“Should be at the Citadel.”_

“There’s no answer on his frequency.”

_“I don’t know, must have his hands full with the escort details.”_

“Pelna, one last favor. I need you to prep the glaives for action.”

_“What are you talking about? You wanna deploy without the Captain's order?”_

“Trust me. Just get it done.”

He was reaching the throne room. Two door guards had been stationed at the entrance of the corridor leading straight to it and tried to stop him, but he shoved them aside.

King Regis stood by the glass window, looking at the plaza below. He watched the Niffs arriving on their cars, and Iedolas with his Chancellor slowly ascending the stairs, waving at the crowd. Try as me might, he couldn’t help his lips slightly curling in a snarl.

“The ceremony is in less than two hours,” Clarus reminded him. “We must make ready.”

“Very well,” the King simply said, schooling his face on a neutral gesture.

“Your Majesty!” a member of the Palace staff announced. “A man of the Kingsglaive is here, sire! He demands an audience.”

“ _Demands_?” the King asked disbelievingly. The last thing he needed that day was insubordination.

The main door busted open and a glaive rushed inside, to kneel at the foot of the stairs.

“Your Majesty!” he said. “Give the order to deploy the glaives!”

“You!” said Regis, recognizing the soldier who had escorted the Princess.

“A Niflheim fleet makes ready for war 20 miles to the south,” the glaive declared.

“An imperial fleet?” Clarus echoed.

The King frowned. Nyx didn’t know if it was due to his coarse insubordination, or because he believed him.

“And,” Nyx added. “They have the Princess.”

Something changed in the King’s demeanor.

“Clarus,” he said to his Shield. “Post guards outside the treaty room.”

“It will be seen as a lack of faith in the peace,” Clarus argued.

“Which we all harbor. See it done. We may well have to take emperor Aldercapt into custody.”

“Detain him? That would go beyond a new declaration of war!”

“We are still at war, Clarus. And you,” he said, looking at Nyx. “Nyx Ulric. How soon can the Kingsglaive deploy?”

“On your word, at once.”

“Go, then. Save Luna.”

The preparations were swift, since they were used to be deployed at a moment’s notice. Captain Drautos, still busy with the ceremony, delegated on Nyx the details of the mission. With Luche at his side, Nyx held the meeting at HQ; they would have two missions: rescue Lady Lunafreya and prevent the ships from arriving at Insomnia. Having no ranks amongst the Kingsglaive, save that of Captain, Luche turned to Nyx and said:

“Nyx, you command. We'll follow,” and to their comrades he said: “The glaives stands together, captain or no. For hearth. And home!”

**Twenty minutes to the signing**

Six battleships were anchored at the bottom of a canyon. The glaives divided themselves in two groups: The first one, led by Nyx, would be the extraction group; the second one, led by Luche, would be the infiltrators.

 _“I received word of the King's order to deploy,”_ came Drautos’ voice through their radios. _“I'll see to matters in the city. You have your mission, and it won't be easy. The objective is two-fold. Secure the hostage, and stay the enemy advance. Just be careful. One glaive already died for this Princess. Niflheim won't give her up easily.”_

Nyx saw the six battleships as he perched on the cliff’s edge, his purple scarf fluttering in the wind.

He gave the order, and his unit jumped to the ship Nyx signaled. They all warped and landed securely on the deck, taking their positions while they waited for orders.

Luche’s unit was directed to another ship, but just when they were landing, a roar reverberated throughout the canyon as the ships took off.

Quicker than they had expected, the dreadnoughts picked up speed. Many glaives had to throw their kukris in whichever direction they could and cleave at the ships’ hulls, hoping to be able to climb their way up to the decks. Luche could barely hold onto his own weapon as the ship’s momentum nearly threw him away.

Nyx ran along the canyon’s edge, trying to keep up with the dreadnought, which was already emerging from the chasm. He threw his kukri as far as he could, knowing that he would have to warp several times to get near the ship. The second time he tried to warp, his sister’s voice asking for help made him grimace and lose his concentration. That split second was enough for one of the airship’s fins to hit him and send him tumbling in the air.

Dizzy with pain, he could throw the kukri once, twice, and the third time he could at last grab onto one of the many pipes protruding from the ship. He heard Pelna yelling at him: He had reached the deck already.

“Preparing to head below deck,” he announced to the Captain.

 _“Do not engage the enemy until instructed,”_ Drautos said. _“The ceremony is underway. Let's wait and see how Niflheim plays this.”_

**xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx**

The delegation from Niflheim sat quietly at the conference room. Iedolas seemed like a marble statue, his eyes looking expressionless at the ebony table in front of him. At his left, an empty chair awaited for King Regis.

A subordinate walked behind his seat and whispered:

“The Kingsglaive have infiltrated the ships. So everything's going according to plan.”

Nodding slightly, Iedolas didn’t let the man see any change on his expression. He grimaced in disgust, though, when the man went away, to then return to his impassive waiting. There was, however, something that had changed in his eyes.

Ravus sat calmly amongst the delegates. He had seen the interchange between the subordinate and the Emperor, and his lips curved ever so slightly in a soft smile.

**xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx**

Regis and his retinue walked towards the conference room, the monarch’s countenance set in a grim mask. He had given the order to close the barriers protecting the Crystal, and the Crownsguard to be stationed at the vault’s entrance.

**xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx**

Nyx walked along one of the outer catwalks on the ship, grabbing onto the railing so as not to be thrown by the strong wind.

“Ulric reporting. Six Niflheim airships confirmed inbound for Insomnia.”

**xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx**

Pelna sneaked silently along one the ship’s corridor.

“Nyx,” he said through his radio when he saw no guards anywhere. “This doesn’t feel like a war fleet.”

He arrived at an intersection where the number of doors suggested the cabins being there. One of them had two magitek infantry soldiers guarding it.

Drautos gave the order, and told them to be discreet.

**xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx**

Regis took his place at Iedolas’ side.

“Forgive my delay,” the King said casually. “A bit of unforeseen trouble.”

“Nothing too vexing, I hope,” Iedolas retorted, as they took seat.

“A simple theft, nothing more.”

“A daring thief, to steal from the king,” then he added. “Perhaps magical walls and castle gates do not keep all things safe.”

“Perhaps. But no matter. That which was taken will soon be returned.”

“Impressive! You are a paragon of kingly composure,” then he leaned towards him, speaking in a softer, more insidious voice. “But I must ask, how can You be so sure?”

“Because this thing is no mere trinket,” Regis smiled. “It possesses a will all its own,” he turned to briefly look at him in the eye for the first time. “Enough to break any thief's grasp.”

“Hm. That sounds a very fine prize indeed.”

**xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx**

Dispatching the two MTs wasn’t very difficult for Pelna. He cursed, though, when the miasma that escaped from their bodies as they were neutralized hit him in the face.

Hearing the commotion, Luna peered through the porthole of her cell’s door. A hooded figure was there with a hand to his ear, talking with someone.

**xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx**

Clarus knelt beside Regis and whispered the news.

“The glaives have recovered the Princess, Your Majesty.”

It was then when Regis stood up, signaling the start of the ceremony. The crowd outside the Palace erupted in cheers.

“Have You found Your thief?” Iedolas asked.

“We have,” Regis smiled as they walked to the ebony table. “And what was stolen remains intact.”

“Joyous news. I am relieved to hear it.”

Regis shot a brief, murderous glance towards the Emperor. Nevertheless, he kept a civil tone.

“Tell me,” he said. “How heavy a sentence does the crime of theft carry in your empire?”

“Among the heaviest. Although there is one exception,” the Emperor answered, raising one finger.

**xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx**

Pelna and Lunafreya sneaked around the corridors of the ship towards the extraction point. Strangely enough, the soldiers didn’t seem to be looking for them, bot gathering elsewhere.

“Things are about to get ugly over here,” Pelna told Nyx.

Nyx, on his part, ran as fast as he could towards the extraction point. Pelna’s words made him stop abruptly, suddenly realizing something.

“Pelna, get out of there!” he screamed on the radio as he started running again. “It’s a trap!”

**xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx**

“What is that?” Regis asked.

“A curious old law I still permit in the outlands. A thief who escapes his captor can no longer be held to account for his crime.”

“A warning to the victim. Never show weakness, lest you forgo the hand of Justice.”

“Oh, no, good King. Far from it.”

The peace treaty documents were already on the table.

“It is a warning,” Iedolas kept explaining. “To the hand of Justice itself never to loose its grip.”

Lightning energy was already arching between Regis’ right hand fingers.

Two explosions shook the plaza below. Iedolas, taking advance of Regis’ momentary distraction, took a revolver out of his coat. The King and his retinue, however, were prepared, and they invoked the Royal Weapons before Iedolas, and before his cohort.

**xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx**

Nyx reached Pelna and Lunafreya as he turned a corner.

“One Tenebrae Princess,” Pelna said. “Safe and-”

His words were cut when a giant tentacle grabbed him and started ramming his head against the metal walls. There had been something else roaming the corridors, a beast the empire had planned on unleashing at the Crown City. As soon as Nyx saw the tentacle appearing and heard the beast’s roar, he knew they had to run.

Nyx grabbed Luna by the hand and dragged her away from the Ultros. Pelna’s body hit the wall behind the spot they had been standing a second before, falling to the ground like a ragdoll.

**xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx**

There was an explosion and a cloud of toxic gas at the Crystal chamber. The Crownsguard fought bravely, but they were quickly overrun by the imperials, which this time were human.

Once they entered the chamber, their captain quickly used ID cards to disable the physical barriers protecting the Crystal, while the other soldiers placed explosive charges all around the chamber.

**xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx**

At the plaza, the man with the lavender shirt ran alongside the panicked crowd, but it was just an act: He wanted to stay as long as he could to witness what it was about to happen.

**xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx**

Inside the airship Luche’s unit had infiltrated, two glaives waited patiently for instructions. One of them activated his radio and commented that something was happening at the city.

The other was Sonitus, who had been watching Nyx and Libertus alongside his friends, Tredd and Axis. He looked through a nearby window at the approaching Insomnia. That was the signal: Sonitus took out his kukri and sunk it between his companion’s ribs, leaving him there to die.

**xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx**

“What's going on!” Nyx screamed on his radio, while he and Luna ran down the corridors, still chased down by the tentacles.

 _“Insomnia is under attack,”_ Drautos answered.

“Who brought you here?” Nyx asked the Princess.

“General Glauca.”

“You were bait! Us coming here was all part of their plan.”

Turning corners, they finally outran the monster and they reached the engine hall, where a gigantic turbine worked at full power.

“Target secured,” he told Drautos. “Request permission to withdraw.”

 _“Granted,”_ said the Captain. _“Get to-”_

The communication was cut as an explosion went off. They looked though one of the windows and they saw that they were already flying above the Palace. Fire erupted from its center: the Crystal chamber.

The explosion dissipated the Crystal’s beam, and the Wall came crashing down as a broken glass window over the entire city.

**xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx**

“The Crystal will not serve you!” Regis warned the Emperor as he held the weapons against him in a stalemate.

“Nor you...” Iedolas smirked, but it quickly turned into a grimace of disgust. “Once I take it from this accursed city.”

**xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx**

Nyx guided the Princess along the catwalk over the ship’s engines. At their side, there was a designed opening to give light and ventilation to the engine room. From there they could see the Wall crashing down. Two of his companions approached from the left, while one did it from his right.

“Fall back!” he ordered them. “It’s a trap!”

The one on his right lunged, knife in hand, towards them. At the same time, one of the other two at his left stabbed his companion and went for Nyx and the Princess. He barely got rid of the first one when he already had the other on top of him, but Nyx wasn’t considered the best warrior for nothing. The only thing that had made him hesitate but a second was the fact of seeing his own companions attacking him.

**xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx**

Inside the ship the second unit had infiltrated, the wounded glaive dragged himself up to peer over the railing to the other gangways below. His companions were fighting fiercely, not against the magitek soldiers, but against each other. Standing on one of the higher gangplanks, he could see Tredd giving orders to the magitek infantry. His red hair was unmistakable.

With a last effort, the glaive conjured a fireball towards the main turbine. The explosion could be felt all throughout the ship. Large portions of metal and debris flew, crushing the two MTs escorting Tredd, who dodged the projectiles in time before running away.

The ship veered, crashing onto the one Nyx had boarded.

He and the Princess kept running, barely keeping their balance inside the tilting ship. The path ended abruptly and they lost their footing, finding themselves dangling over the turbines.

A glaive appeared behind them, again lunging against Nyx and launching both of them to the void. As the man was about to stab him, a giant tentacle grabbed him.

Nyx threw his kukri to a safe location, and he saw how the tentacle monster had come finally loose and how he had grabbed the Princess. More glaive lunged at the beast, if friend or foe, Nyx couldn’t know, but he Ultros kept either swatting at them or eating them, while it kept Lady Lunafreya unharmed.

**xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx**

The ships’ cannons aimed at the Palace, as assault crafts overflew the main plaza. They opened their hatches, and magitek troopers jumped down towards the Palace.

The jump had been carefully calculated, and they landed through the treaty room’s glass windows, where the King and the Emperor held a standstill. They shoot to the unsuspecting Lucians, killing some of them and forcing the rest, King included, to conjure a magic shield.

The emperor and his cohort calmly abandoned the Treaty Room while the MTs covered their retreat. But someone remained behind.

**xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx**

Inside the falling ship, Nyx tried to see any weak point in the giant squid.

Using the distraction that a falling glaive gave him, he launched his kukri to the tentacle holding the Princess, warping there and bombarding his head with fireballs.

The beast finally let her go, and Nyx had to warp several times to get a hold of her. Finally grasping a railing behind a metal wall, they caught their breath before Nyx tried to kill the monster.

**xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx**

The MT soldiers fell to the ground with Regis’ lightning spell. He would never get used to the eerie scream they let go each time the miasma abandoned their metallic bodies.

“Come,” Clarus said. “We must escape while we can.”

“No, Clarus,” the King said, turning to the broken glass window. They could hear a rising hum. “I’m afraid escape is no longer an option.”

Something fell through the broken glass window and landed heavily on the marble floor. It was an enormous human clad in liquid metal magitek armor. On his hand a heavy two-handed sword shone with a red gleam.

**xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx**

The monster kept searching for them, oblivious to the fact that the ship was free falling.

Nyx left the Princess holding onto a railing while he went to face it. The glaive raised a magic shield just in time before the many tentacles lashed at him, the force of the impact slowly letting the railing loose.

The shield faded and he heard the engine of an assault craft approaching. When the side door opened, Nyx could see Luche, who just stood there, staring wide eyed at the monster.

The Ultros, with a movement, swept Luche from his perch, sending him falling to the void. The monster, now taking a particular interest on the assault craft, elveloped it with its tentacles, dragging it inside the ruined warship. As the craft went by, Luna climbed what remained of the railing.

Nyx called for her, but she didn’t look back. The Lady jumped to the craft’s open door and laboriously clambered inside.

“You gotta be kidding me,” he muttered as he followed her.

As he had guessed, he found the Princess at the cabin, fumbling with the controls.

“They teach piloting back at the royal academy?” he asked, as he unceremoniously removed her from the pilot seat. “Give me that.”

**xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx**

At the Palace, King Regis’ old guard quickly surrounded him.

“It’s been a long time since I fought at Your side, old friend,” Clarus said.

“Yes, but this time it is not your fight. If you wish to leave, go now.”

His friend chuckled mirthlessly.

“And abandon my king? I think not. Besides, our magic is bound to you. If you fall, Lucis falls.”

“Then let us once more into the fray, old friend.”

General Glauca suddenly lunged forward. The Kingsguard was no match for him and in one clean swept he defeated them. Brave as they were, Regis was right: They were all too old to fight.

**xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx**

The assault craft, with the monster still clinging to it, flew away from the derelict warship, but the beast’s weight threatened to make it fall. Nyx had an idea. A risky one, but he wouldn’t let an Ultros loose in the streets of Insomnia. Lady Lunafreya sat rigidly at his side; she neither screamed, nor she complained about their predicament. Not even when Nyx directed the craft straight to the sharp antenna of one skyscraper did she do anything except clutching at her seat.

The impact rocked the ship and they could fly faster: the building’s antenna had pierced the monster. Nyx yanked at the controls just in time for the falling battleship to hit the same building, sending it crashing down with the giant squid still impaled and flailing its tentacles in its death throes.

“You must take me back to King Regis,” Luna said as Nyx tried setting the ship on a steady course.

“Are you out of your mind? Insomnia's a war zone.”

“I have a duty,” she insisted. “I cannot neglect it.”

“Yeah, I heard all that before.”

“Then you know we must hurry”

“Hurry to do what? Get yourself killed?”

“I do not fear death,” she said firmly, still looking ahead. Behind her profile, the setting sun made the whole skyline burn with an orange light.

“Oh. Enough with all this _brave Princess_ act!” he shouted angrily, but then he grumbled: “Just pray this thing will make the trip.”

He directed the ship towards the Palace.


	10. A King's Will

**BOOK 1: KINGSGLAIVE  
**

**CHAPTER 9 – A KING’S WILL**

Clarus was still one of the strongest men in Lucis, but he could do nothing against the powerful magitek armor of the General. With a swift movement, Glauca grabbed the Shield and send him flying across the room, lunging for Regis after that. The King summoned the Royal Weapons to deflect the greatsword aimed to his head, but he could only stop it, the strain visible on his face. Clarus launched an attack to the General’s back, using the King’s distraction, but the armored man spun around, disarmed him with ease and, grabbing him by the neck, he hurled him again. Clarus impacted against the black marble and clung desperately to the carvings to avoid a fatal fall. Glauca then grabbed the Shield’s sword and tossed it, so powerfully he impaled the other man to the wall.

Regis could only watch his old friend exhaling his last breath, as a gigantic warship cast its shadow over the Citadel.

**xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx**

“Well,” said Chancellor Izunia, gazing alongside the Emperor how an assault craft dragged the case containing the Crystal out of the ruined Chamber. Their own was slowly taking altitude. “I daresay everything has proceeded according to plan. No?”

The Emperor seemed like an alabaster statue at his side. Not even the warm last lights of the day could liven up his icy countenance.

“So it has,” he simply said. “We have broken the Wall. All that remains is to break the city.”

“Shall we take our leave, then? The sun will soon set. We need not be here to witness the terrors of the night.”

The two men walked deeper into the ship as it gained speed and altitude, their mission finally complete.

**xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx**

Luna watched the craft taking the Cristal and boarding a warship as they overflew the Palace.

“You’re going too fast,” she said. “We have to land!”

“Yeah, you're gonna have to give me a minute on that,” Nyx grunted, trying to keep the ship on a steady course.

“There is no time. I will go on my own.”

“You got wings underneath that dress? You can't use magic”

They would be flying by a balcony at the Palace in a few seconds.

“Not all miracles are made by magic,” she calmly said. “I do not fear death. What I fear is doing nothing and losing everything.”

And she jumped from the ship.

Cursing, Nyx left the controls and followed suit, and with good timing, for Luna’s jump would have missed the balcony for a few inches. He grabbed her by the waist and threw his kukri; the two of them landed atop the marble terrace, the glaive always protecting her with his body.

“You can thank magic for that miracle, Your Highness,” he pointed out as he helped her to her feet. Warping wasn’t a pleasant first experience, but she managed to walk more or less steadily and keep down whatever her stomach might have held.

**xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx**

At the plaza inside the Citadel and in many places throughout Insomnia, assault crafts landed, deploying MT soldiers. The robots started shooting indiscriminately to the crowd, felling soldiers and civilians alike.

The man with the lavender shirt walked among the crowd, a smile on his lips as he watched the people running by.

“The reckoning is at hand,” he murmured. “Dawn of a new age.”

His soliloquy was cut short, however, when a stray bullet pierced his right lung. He fell to the ground, still watching the panicked crowd around him.

**xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx**

Regis invoked a magic shield to deflect the General’s blows.

“You have the Crystal,” he said. “What more would you take from me?”

The shield broke in a thousand shards. Without a word, Glauca snatched the King’s left hand and pulled him forward. The momentum left the monarch defenseless and the General, with a wide arc from his sword, severed Regis’ left fingers, making the Ring of the Lucii tumble with a metallic sound on the floor.

Fortune had that the ring rolled to the feet of someone they didn’t expect to be in the room with them.

“The ring of the Lucii,” Ravus said, looking at the intricate filigrees on the ring’s dark metal. “I lost my mother, my country, my birthright. Niflheim was the only life left to me. But all of that was for this. The Ring belongs to me now.”

Several things happened at the same time when Ravus put the Ring on his finger. Time seemed to stop, and he saw how Glauca was already upon him, his sword tracing a deadly arc aimed at his head. A door had opened, and he could see his sister with one of the King’s lapdogs.

No matter: the Ring was his, and he could fulfill his vengeance.

“Hear me, Lucian Kings of Old!” he invoked. “For I am Ravus Nox Fleuret and none is more worthy of your power than I!”

There was a moment of silence. Ravus’ face changed his expression from one of triumph to incredulity.

“No. Why? Why do you refuse me?”

As an answer to his pleas, his arm burst in flames, and he fell to the ground, writhing and screaming in agony.

The Ring fell from his hand, rolling back to the King’s feet; Glauca’s greatsword cleaved at the marble floor in the place Ravus stood moments before. Luna met a gruesome scene, with his older brother now unconscious on the floor, his left arm blackened and ruined beyond salvation, and the King holding his bleeding hand. Seeing Glauca about to attack the King, Nyx warped towards him, while Luna helped the monarch.

Glauca saw Nyx coming and, with a flicker of his left hand he deflected the knife and Nyx with it. The glaive roared in frustration, throwing a lightning spell at the General. He warped, this time landing a kick to the chest, but Glauca didn’t seem to even notice. He warped again, quickly attacking and retreating, but the General could read his every movement and deflected his blows with astonishing ease.

He tried warping above the General’s head, but Glauca guessed his intentions once again. He grabbed the kukri in mid-air and threw it to the floor, making Nyx land heavily on his back. Through his blurred sight, he saw the General looming over him, sword ready, until an electric explosion made the armored man kneel with a grunt of pain.

“Quickly!” he heard the King calling for him. “Through here!”

He threw his kukri where the voice came from, not really seeing where he was going, and he landed with a thud against the wall.

The doors of the lift closed behind him, but not before he could see the General getting on his feet again.

As he fought to catch his breath, he heard the sound of cloth being torn: Lady Lunafreya made an improvised strip of bandage from her tunic to dress the King’s hand.

“This leads to a secret passageway,” Regis told Nyx. “Follow it. Once you are away, make for Altissia. Noctis awaits you there.”

“Your Majesty…” Luna whispered, when she realized what the King’s words implied.

“You knew this was coming,” Nyx accused him.

“Yes!” the King admitted, frustration making him raise his voice. “But it was the only way to draw their wrath from Noctis.”

“Is that the way of our king? Sacrifice Lucian sons to save his own?”

“To save the world,” Luna sternly corrected him.

“See Luna safely to Altissia,” said Regis. “This is not an order from a king to his glaive. This is a plea from one man to another. Please, Nyx Ulric, keep her safe. For the future of all.”

“The future?” he echoed, trying to keep his incredulity from showing. How could this man talk of the future with his kingdom crashing down around him?

An explosion shook the lift. Glauca was no doubt trying to breach the doors above them.

“Here,” Regis said, pressing the Ring into Luna’s hands. “It is time it passed to another's keeping.”

The three exited the lift and traversed through an empty, half lighted room. Luna led the King by the hand, but before they reached the middle of the room, Regis let go of her.

They stood looking at each other, horror welling up in Luna’s eyes when she realized he was mirroring her, twelve years prior.

Before she could react, Regis raised his hand and a wall grew between them. Luna screamed, hitting it with her fists, but it was too late. A smaller version of the Wall which had protected Insomnia for over a century had risen between them.

“I know your mother would wish the same as me,” he said with a smile. “That you and Noctis live happily. All those years captive because I failed you. Not again. Locked doors will seal your fate no longer.”

Another explosion echoed in the distance.

“Our hope goes with you now, Nyx Ulric,” he said to the glaive. “Godspeed.”

Nyx led the Princess away to the exit, and Regis turned from them to face his enemy.

Glauca landed on top of the lift’s car, crushing it with the impact. The breached doors from the floor above fell behind him along with pieces of wall, but the armored man didn’t flinch. Instead, he calmly stepped into the passage and into the room. He raised his greatsword, offering a salute as the King threw away his cane, both men preparing for the duel.

The General lunged forward, but Regis raised his injured hand, the white cloth now of a bright crimson. An explosion of electricity hit Glauca and launched him against the marble walls. The armored warrior got up with a grunt, shaking away the pieces of broken masonry. The next lightning bolt was to hit him in the chest, but he blocked the spell with his blade.

“Behold the king of Lucis, who hoarded tranquility within his precious walls,” his distorted voice boomed as he slowly stepped forward, overcoming the King’s power. “Where is your tranquility now, king? Here is your peace, by steel's swift descent.”

Stray rays of energy hit the armor as Glauca advanced. Regis’ spell was powerful enough to dissolve the metal, but its regenerative properties restored it almost instantly. The General moved the sword ever so slightly to the side, so he could look at the King in the eye and, for just a fraction of a second, the spell hit the helmet, dissolving its upper part.

Regis faltered then, his green eyes wide as he shook his head in disbelief, for he had recognized whose face was under the liquid metal.

With a movement of his wrists, the General deflected the spell and Regis’ hand. The motion made the King spin on his feet and Glauca, seeing the opening, thrust his sword through the King’s back once, he took it out and ran him through a second time. The General tilted his head upwards, and an inhuman scream of triumph echoed in the chamber. Nyx and Luna watched in impotent horror as the King’s eyes became unfocussed. With a push from Glauca, Regis’ corpse fell face first to the ground.

Without thinking, the glaive unsheathed his kukri, and it was Luna’s turn to drag him out of the room.

“We must get away from here,” she reminded him, tugging at his clothes and forcing him to look at her. “It is what your King wanted.”

He bared his teeth like a wildcat, looking at Glauca standing over Regis’ corpse, his sword raised before him in silent vigil. His impulse was that of clawing at the barrier, which still stood between them, but the Princess was right.

They ran as fast as they could towards an exit to an underground parking. Before getting in one of the cars, Luna stopped, staring at the colossal statue presiding over them: Another of the Kings of Old.

As they sped their way towards any city exit, they could see that it was already dusk. Insomnia would be defenseless against the daemons.

Nyx tried contacting HQ to no avail. He then shook his head, remembering how his conversation was abruptly cut when the explosion went off, and trying to push away the thought of Drautos being caught on it.

The screen on the dashboard showed the newscast. An announcer narrated how the security cameras had caught the images of the alleged terrorists who had planted the bombs at the Citadel’s plaza, which had been promptly identified. However, the newscast only centered on one: Libertus Ostium, Galahdan refugee and former member of the Kingsglaive.

Nyx shook his head. Of all the stupid things Libertus could have done…


	11. The Fall

B **OOK 1: KINGSGLAIVE**

**CHAPTER 10 – THE FALL**

Libertus limped through the Citadel plaza, now devoid of life, looking at the horrid spectacle before him. Of all the places, Insomnia was the last one he thought could look like a war zone. The smell of burnt gunpowder still hung in the air and the sound of screams and gunshots echoed in the distance.

He was so taken he barely noticed the man with the lavender shirt lying on the ground until he nearly stepped on him.

“Hey, come here. Come here,” he told him, helping him to sit down. “I got you, I got you. You're all right. You're okay.”

“It’s fine,” the man wheezed, smiling. “We're free. We're free now.”

“We're free? What do you mean, _we're free_?” the man’s hands were growing cold in his grasp. He didn’t have much to live.

“The Empire… they promised… this district is ours… all the refugees… it’s our new home…”

“The empire? You went in with Niflheim?”

But the man wasn’t listening anymore. His eyes were already unfocused as life escaped from him.

“Take this,” he said in a thin voice, handing Libertus his own radio. “Meet up with the others. You're the hero of our revolution, brother…”

And the man spoke no more.

**xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx**

Nyx drove as fast as he could through one of the many overpass motorways in the city. He had noticed from afar that many roads were already blocked. He knew where to go, but had no idea if he could find a safe route for them. Had he gone alone things might have been different.

He cursed under his breath just as he noticed the shadow of an assault craft flying to their right, parallel to the road. Bullets hit the car, making him swerve. It wasn’t a full attack, but a warning salvo.

The side door opened, and Nyx saw Tredd, Axis and Sonitus standing there. The three wielded imperial assault guns.

“Can you drive?” he asked Luna.

“I can try.”

They awkwardly switched places, as Nyx went for the backseat to exit through the back door. He carefully aimed for the place where Tredd stood and threw his kukri. His aiming was true, and the blade sunk in the craft’s metal, next to the redhead.

Nothing happened.

“No warping for you this time, _hero_!” Tredd yelled, and he took Nyx’s kukri and kept it.

King Regis was dead, and magic had died with him.

The traitors renewed their shooting, making made Luna skid. She didn’t know first thing about driving, and she was only trying to copy what she had seen do so many times when they toured her throughout the villages to alleviate those afflicted of the Starscourge.

Nyx replaced her again at the wheel, to her relief.

 _“You are making a mess of my city, glaive!”_ they heard a voice through a megaphone.

A riot police van sped just behind them and, behind the wheel, the captain of the door guards, Petra Fortis.

 _“I thought I told you not to go playing hero!”_ he continued. _“Leave the ship to me. Looks like you got a royal fare to see to. Move it!”_

The captain sped up, blocking the ship with his own vehicle. They heard gunshots, and the ship moved away from the freeway.

It wasn’t over, though. They took a detour and two more ships were upon them. This time their main doors opened, and two Magitek Armors landed heavily on the tarmac.

M.A. were, among the magitek technology weapons, one of the most feared construct. Some could be piloted from the inside, but most were autonomous. They were walking tanks, with long, powerful legs, their firepower was that of a small platoon, and the armor was night impenetrable.

The M.A. fired mercilessly against them, and Nyx made the car jump over the railing to the building below.

The car skidded and stopped, dangling dangerously over the edge of one building. Nyx pushed the Princess out of the car, before the vehicle fell with the glaive inside. The space between that building and the next wasn’t narrow enough to stop the car from falling, but it still slowed it down so Nyx could get out and crash through a window, before it landed on the narrow street with an explosion of broken crystal.

Atop the building, Luna had to run for her life and use the air conditioning machines as barriers against the M.A. bullets. The imperial troops had detected her and kept their heavy firing. She fell, screaming, when a bullet grazed her on the shoulder.

Nyx looked out of a balcony to see Luna in peril, but he couldn’t do anything when an assault craft began firing at him.

There were scaffolds installed all along the façade of the building. He ran, using them as parapet; when he was above one M.A. he planted his feet on one of the metal tubing and pushed with his back against the building’s wall, making the scaffold fall on top of the machine. The impact made the M.A. fall down, and the leverage prevented it from moving. That was their weak point, but it was almost impossible to exploit in a normal battlefield.

Looking around, he caught sight of Lady Lunafreya, making signs from an access door.

“What the hell did You do to piss these things off?” he asked while they ran deeper into the building.

“It's not me they're after. It's the Ring.”

Nyx guided her down a corridor and ushered her into the first room he saw could be safe for them.

It was an office. Even with the streetlights as the only means to see their way around, it was clear the workers had left in a hurry, no doubt after the first explosions went off at the Citadel. Papers were still scattered over the desks, and here and there chairs lain overturned. The two fugitives crouched behind a small shelving where the workers stored the ledgers.

“What’s that special about this Ring?” Nyx asked, keeping an eye on the door. “Don't tell me the future's riding on it.”

“He who wears the Ring communes with the Lucii and commands great power.”

“What kind of power?”

“A forbidden one. Sealed within the Ring, long ago.”

“The Old Wall…” he mused. “I thought that was just a bedtime story.”

An eerie scream from outside interrupted them. It was a sound Nyx knew all too well. Daemons were prowling the streets already.

“I can assure you it is not,” Luna said. “But the Lucii grant their power only to those they deem worthy.”

Another scream. This time it was a howling sound which made the ground rumble. Nyx got up and peered through the window in alarm. He had heard that howl before at the last battle.

“So that guy who tried it on back there, I guess he wasn't deemed worthy,” he quipped to lighten up the mood.

“That was my brother.”

Nyx grimaced. Way to put his foot in his mouth.

“These twelve years have changed Ravus,” Luna recalled, completely ignoring his uncalled-for comment. “He is bound by the past, and lost in his lust for power.”

Something smashed through the window. Insect-like creatures. Daemons.

“How the hell did they find us?” Nyx grunted, fending the attack from one. He had to wrestle it off himself and toss it aside. Something crackled on the monster’s head and then it started attacking its companion until they killed each other. The glaive approached the carcasses with caution; they were daemons, yes, but they also wore electronic implants to subdue them. Something dawned on him.

“Your hairpin! They’re tracking it!”

Lunafreya took it off and gave it to him. He quickly sat down and started examining the jewel under the faint light from the streetlights outside.

“I had a little sister once,” he said, turning the hairpin on his hands. “She was killed when the empire came. I couldn't save her. I was as helpless then as I am now,” he yanked the fake diamond off and crushed it between his fingers. “I couldn't show her the future she wanted.”

“True power is not something that is found by those who seek it. It is something that comes to those who deserve it.”

Nyx half smiled, snorting humorlessly.

“Your sister wanted you to see a future as well,” she said.

Nyx shot a stare at the Lady. Princess or not, his sister had always been a touchy subject, and not even the Oracle herself could dare to guess what Selena might have wanted. But he knew. Selena was just a young girl when she died: she only wanted to keep living a long, quiet, happy life with those she loved. Questions about the future were for the elders, who are the ones to worry about that thing that suddenly becomes scarce for them.

He was about to lash out at her, but Luna’s blue eyes were lost in the distance.

“Anyone would wish the same for family they love,” she murmured.

Nyx smirked, realizing they were even. He had been an asshole moments before, talking too lightly about a brother who might as well be dead. It was fair that she spoke her mind about whatever she wanted.

“You don't pull any punches, do You?”

A deafening hum grew in intensity; now it was mingled with a chirping sound. Nyx peered again through the window, and saw a swarm of the daemons he had just killed rushing towards them in a black cloud of wings. The hairpin hadn’t been deactivated.

“I’m over here!” he held the hairpin over his head, yelling at the swarm of monsters breaking through all the windows.

He ran to the next room, the monsters ignoring the Princess and going after him.

_“Do you hear me? Repeat, this is Drautos. Can you hear me? Over.”_

“Your timing's impeccable, Captain,” Nyx screamed over the ruckus of the swarm, as he saw a M.A. peering at him through the windows of the next room and opening fire. It had climbed between that building and the one across the street, and now it perched firmly between them to take aim. “If the Lucii are real, they sure don't seem to mind their city getting torn apart.”

_“You're to rendezvous and regroup. Understood?”_

“That might not be so easy, Captain,” Nyx laughed. It was partly his natural reaction each time he was in a dangerous situation, and partly sheer relief at hearing a familiar voice. “My wings have been clipped, in case you didn’t know.”

No matter how powerful the M.A. was, it needed some seconds to reload its guns after each barrage. Nyx was waiting for those precious moments, and when he hear the faint click from the gun, he sprung from his hiding place and jumped through the broken windows on top of the war machine. As expected, the swarm followed him, but the daemons, on their blind flight, bumped on him and made him lose his footing. Sliding down the machine’s shell, he lost the hairpin, which fell to the street below. Luna was already there; she took the device and threw it as far as she could, aiming for the engine of the nearby assault craft. The daemons followed it, going to crash on the engine.

The craft exploded, sending debris everywhere, and toppling the M.A. down to the street. Nyx fell with it, miraculously ending up in a hollow under the metallic legs. Nyx held his breath, unable to move, and fully expecting some piece of debris to fall on him, but that never came, and he struggled with a grunt to a sitting position.

_“Ulric, are you all right?”_

“I’m not dead, if that’s what you mean, sir,” he said with difficulty as he grimaced. His right knee hurt as if I had been dislocated.

_“Head to Sector D as soon as you can. I'll have an evacuation team ready.”_

“Don't suppose you could meet me at the gate?” he pleaded. “I'd kind of like to get the hell out of this city.”

_“Imperials hold all the exits. There's no way through. I'll meet you at section D. Cut all radio contact until then. And make sure you get there.”_

“It’s a date, sir,” he sighed, limping his way out of the ruined war machine.

**xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx**

Libertus had seen many battlefields, and he thought his mind was used already to see a carnage, but witnessing it inside the very city he had called home for many years was too much for him. The empire hadn’t only attacked the Citadel: the whole city was in ruins. MTs, glaives, members of the Crownsguard and civilians alike lain among the debris, burning cars exploded in the distance, and he could hear the sound of daemons already lurking in the alleyways as the sun set.

“Ain't no turning back now,” he murmured as he walked among the chaos.

He heard a radio going off. Two voices were talking about Nyx.

 _“Status report,”_ one voice demanded.

 _“Ulric killed some good men,”_ another one answered. Were they really talking about Nyx?

 _“What about the ring?”_ the first voice inquired.

_“We don’t have it yet.”_

The voices came from the glaives’ radio. Had been Nyx killing glaives?

A booming, distorted voice could be heard then through the same radio. It made Libertus stop dead on his tracks.

_“This is Glauca. King Regis is dead. The Ring is on its way to section D. We must recover the ring to realize our goal. If Ulric or the Princess get in the way, take them out. Reclaim our hearth and home.”_

“Hearth and home?” Libertus echoed incredulously. That was the glaives’ motto!

_“Libertus, come in. Where are you? Are you all right?”_

It came from his own radio.

“I’m fine. On the way back to base now,” he lied, grabbing a kukri from the ground: it was one of the twin set Nyx always wielded. Looking around him, he saw that the fallen glaives were Tredd, Axis and Sonitus, and that mingled with them there were also the corpses from Crownsguard soldiers. What the hell had happened?

_“We need you to head to the junction in section D. We're gonna join up with another unit and make a clean sweep of the place. We're one step away from realizing this revolution. Let's not let our comrades’ deaths be in vain. We'll be waiting for you, hero.”_

That last word felt like a stab in the chest. He was no hero, never been one, and definitely would never be. He had disgraced Crowe’s memory and the Kingsglaive, acting as a fool and helping the Empire without even knowing it.

He took two pills and gulped for air as his mind raced. What could he do? What could he possibly do?

**xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx**

The roundabout at Sector D junction was surrounded by shopping malls and many restaurants and cafes. At its center, a statue seemed to preside over the citizens. Nyx had gone there several times over the years with Crowe and Libertus, until the three of them decided that they felt more at ease at the foreigner’s quarter. The bustling sector was now devoid of life, although the neon signs and screens kept advertising the many products manufactured in Insomnia.

The silence was overwhelming, and Nyx noticed Lady Lunafreya holding her breath for fear that they might be discovered. As silently as they could, and despite his injured leg, he led her under one building with an arcade and hid her behind the wide columns while he spied the place. At the opposite side, a flight of stairs formed an almost perfect semicircle around the junction.

He sensed foul play, but he couldn’t tell her

“Don't move until I say it's safe, all right?” he murmured.

He strode outside, slowly, so they couldn’t notice his limp.

“Ulric, reporting!” he called, his voice echoing through the empty junction. “I have the Princess! She’s alive and well-”

A gunshot pierced the tranquil night air, hitting him in the stomach. He looked up: Luche fired a second round as he walked down the stairs. Nyx fell on his knees when the second bullet pierced him, grunting.

Luna screamed and ran for him, but he raised his hand.

“Get out of here!” he yelled.

Luche laughed.

“You've got some fight in you, Nyx, I'll give you that.”

“Run!” Nyx screamed to the Princess as he tried to strike at Luche. But he was gravely wounded, and his former companion didn’t have any problem kicking the kukri out of his hand.

“I can't believe you're still moving with that hollow-point in you,” he said, kicking him hard in the stomach. “All Crowe could do was scream, when one tore her insides apart.”

“Why’d you do it?” Nyx roared through the pain.

“Why'd you do it?” Luche repeated as if it was the stupidest question he had ever heard. “Because the Kingsglaive is nothing. An old man's battle fodder sent to die in Insomnia's war while our homes are bound and shackled.”

“Niflheim took your home,” Nyx said earnestly, but also throwing a meaningful look at Luna. “Took all our homes! Nothing will ever change that!”

“You never were too smart,” Luche dismissed him. “You could've had a new future with the empire.”

Luna ran away, but Luche had caught sight of her. She found an open door and followed a corridor leading to a balcony on the first floor. At the other side there was a metallic door, but it was locked.

Nyx couldn’t move. The pain was unbearable and his sight was blurring, and he had to witness how Luche cornered the Princess, slowly approaching her as he enjoyed every moment of it.

“There’s nowhere to run, Princess,” Luche spat the last word as he put his gun to her forehead. “The Ring, give it to me.”

Luna held his gaze for a moment, and then tried to jump over the railing, but Luche was quicker and stronger. He grabbed her and pushed her violently against the metal door.

The lights of an approaching car blinded Nyx. It was the Prince’s, and Drautos stepped out of it, his blue eyes wide in surprise at the scene before him.

Luche wrestled the ring out of Luna’s hand and looked at it.

“So many deaths for so simple a thing?” he asked her. “But why? For what?”

“Power,” she simply said, reading Luche’s eyes and knowing where her escape was. However, she had to make an effort to make the words come out, and prayed the gods forgave her. “Untold power, beyond the control of someone like you.”

“Power…” Luche echoed, his eyes gazing at the Ring.

Nyx would have wanted to urge Drautos about rescuing the Princess from Luche, but the pain was too intense and he had to focus on not losing his consciousness. The Captain knelt at his side to inspect his wounds and Nyx saw, maybe for the first time in many years, his scarred face darkening with genuine concern.

The lights from another car made Nyx squint and look towards the edge of the junction, where he thought he could see Libertus behind the wheel, his face twisted with sheer fury.

An agonizing scream echoed throughout the junction. Luche had tried to use the Ring and, unlike Lord Ravus, his entire body burst in flames. Luna watched in horror as the glaive tripped and fell over the railing; she tried to grab his hand, but the only thing her fingers could save was the Ring as the rest of the hand turned to ash.

Libertus stepped on the gas, making the tires screech. Nyx could see him speeding towards him. He felt nothing. He knew he was dying and that the finishing blow would come from his best friend, whom he had failed. He saw the approaching headlights as if it happened in slow-motion, and knew that, if it was Libertus the one to do it, he could die without resentment, although he still regretted not being able to finish his mission.

When the speeding car was a leap away from him, Libertus swerved, going instead for Drautos, who had stepped back from Nyx as soon as he recognized the driver. The car hit him and the Captain held tight onto the car’s hood to avoid being run over. Libertus then sped further until the car crashed against a nearby wall, crushing Drautos.

Nyx thought he was hallucinating when he saw a red light appearing from underneath the car, where Drautos was supposed to be, then the grunt of a distorted voice he had already heard back at the Palace, the last time he saw the King alive. The car flew over the wall as the armored figure of General Glauca got to his feet.

In an instant, despite the pain numbing his mind, Nyx understood how half the Kingsglaive had gone rogue without none being the wiser and how the empire always got the upper hand in combat, no matter how elaborate their strategies were.

Titus Drautos had been the traitor all along.

He had heard stories about the empire using concealed armors on their soldiers. Spy reports told of experiments on which liquid metal was injected in the blood stream, and the armor could be activated at will. However, the host needed a colossal strength and resilience to prevent the entire body from collapsing on itself. The reports also pointed out that no candidate had ever survived. Was Drautos the only one? But the question which boiled on Nyx' mind was: Why would he serve the empire?

And so Drautos seemed to be the only one capable of enduring it without dying. But the question remained: Why would he serve the empire?

“Captain?” he whispered.

Libertus crawled painfully out of the wrecked car while Luna ran to Nyx. The glaive could barely move with the two gunshots wounds, but he still reached out to the Princess to get her behind him. He could hear Libertus calling for him, but his friend’s voice was drowned with the sound of a warship passing overhead. It carried something humongous that he had already seen on the battlefield.

“It’s over,” came the distorted voice of Drautos through the magitek helmet, its owner strolling towards him with determined steps. “The daemons are unleashed. Lucis is fallen. Surrender the Ring.”

Luna released Nyx’s hand. He could read on her face, clear as day, her intentions.

“Plan on giving those kings a piece of Your mind, Princess?” he asked, wrestling the Ring from her grasp. “You got a destiny to take care of here, remember? Besides, didn't anyone tell you?” he smirked, finally yanking the jewel off her hand. “I’m the hero around here.”

He put the Ring as Drautos lunged at them, his sword already tracing a wide arc, not at him, but at Luna. Time slowed down, and the junction disappeared. He saw himself lying on the ground, darkness enveloping him.

“Show yourselves!” he called. “Kings of Lucis.”

Like an enchantment, armored ghostly figures appeared around him. They were gigantic, and each one unique from the rest.

“YOU CALL UPON THE WARDS OF THIS WORLD'S FUTURE, MORTAL,” one voice spoke. “AND IF YOU COME LUSTING FOR OUR POWER, YOU MUST FIRST STAND IN OUR JUDGMENT."

“How long will you do nothing whilst Insomnia burns?” Nyx said. “Old or new, or whatever it is. Summon your Wall!”

“YOU DO NOT COMMAND US,” a second voice spoke. “YOURS IS NOT EVEN ROYAL BLOOD!”

“IT DOES NOT FALL TO US TO GUARD YOUR CITY,” a third voice said. It came from a particularly bulky armor.

“MAN IS A FOOL CREATURE,” a fourth king said. “CLINGING TO HIS PAST AND COWERING FROM HIS FUTURE. WASTING HIS STRENGTH ON BYGONE DAYS.”

“And what future are you wards of?” Nyx asked.

“SO SHORTSIGHTED. AND CURSED NEVER TO RISE ABOVE IT.”

It was no use. The fabled Kings of Old were nothing but ghosts who looked down on mortals, despite having been humans once. Nyx lowered his head in frustration and tiredness.

“WAIT,” he heard a voice. Distorted as it was, like the rest, he could recognize this one. “I HAVE SEEN WHAT THIS BRAVE SOUL IS PREPARED TO DO. HE, TOO, SEEKS TO SAFEGUARD THE FUTURE.”

“Your Majesty…”

“VERY WELL, YOUNG KING,” said the armor in the center of his vision. The Founder King? “WE WILL WEIGHT YOUR WARRIO'S WORTH. BUT OUR BOON DOES NOT COME CHEAP,” Nyx noticed the other three people at the plaza appearing to his right. “THE COST OF A LIFE,” Libertus, on the floor, called for him; Luna, her arms raised, tried to block the incoming blow from Drautos’ sword, and everything was happening in slow motion. “HIS OR HERS.”

“No,” Nyx murmured, but then he screamed, as the vision dissipated. “To hell with your power! I’m not here for it! I only came to tell you, you are no kings!” he chuckled mirthlessly.

“YOUR WORTH HAD BEEN WEIGHED AND FOUND WANTING,” the bulky armor said. "NOW BURN.”

Nyx screamed as his hand burst in flames, but his scream turned into laugher.

“You're going to lose your precious Ring!” he said. “But it’s not too late to save it.”

“YOU MEAN TO BARTER FOR YOUR LIFE?” said a new voice. Could this be from a woman? Nyx vaguely remembered that there had been a Queen on the Lucis’ line.

“No, no. My life is nothing,” Nyx said. “Giving a future to those who want to see it… Is everything.”

The bulky armor snorted.

“YOU DO NOT FEAR,” it said. “EVEN IF THAT FUTURE IS DOOMED.”

“IF THAT SENTIMENT IS NOR FALSE, PERHAPS YOU ARE WORTHY,” said a different armor.

“WE WILL GRANT YOU OUR LIGHT,” said Regis’ voice. “BUT KNOW IT WILL SET WHEN THE SUN RISES.”

“AND THE PRICE FOR IT WILL BE YOUR LIFE,” said the first armor. Nyx’s memory was hazy, but it might have been the Founder King himself.

Nyx chuckled again.

“You guys drive a hard bargain,” he whispered, but aloud he said: “Where do I sign?”

Drautos' sword bounced with a loud clang. Luna saw the magic shield suddenly raised before her and Nyx. The armored man tried hacking his way through it, but Nyx dispelled the barrier and threw a potent lightning bolt, powerful enough to launch his enemy across the junction, leaving him unconscious on the ground.

“I could get used to this,” Nyx said, getting on his feet, his wounds healed, and spitting on the ground.

Libertus approached them.

“Nyx, I’m sorry,” he panted.

“Don’t be. You saved me,” Nyx replied, looking at the prone figure of Drautos. “Now I owe you one.”

“For a change.”

“I’m gonna need another favor. Meet Lunafreya Nox Fleuret, our prince’s beloved bride-to-be. She has the future of the world in her hands. Keep her safe, get her out of Insomnia.”

She was about to object, but he shushed her.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” he said, removing the Ring from his finger. “You’ll need this. Give Prince Noctis my regards. Libertus will take care of you from here. Have a safe journey, Your Highness.”

“What will come of you?”

“What the hell are you doing?” Libertus said.

But Nyx only smiled at them.

“Following the Kings’ orders.”

“I will see the Ring to Noctis,” Luna said, reading Nyx’s eyes. “The future will be safe, I swear.”

They heard the scrape of metal against the ground: Glauca was slowly getting on his feet. As Nyx turned from them, Libertus gave him the kukri he had retrieved from the fallen comrades.

“Planning on punching your way out of the city?” Nyx smirked. “Keep it. Now we’re even.”

“No. We'll settle up once you're back in Galahd. Me and everyone else will be waiting for you.”

“I’m counting on you,” said Nyx. “Hero.”

And for the first time, that word sounded right.

Libertus and Luna ran for the Prince’s car as Drautos lunged at them, but Nyx tackled him and threw him to the ground again.

As the car sped away, Nyx kept fighting against Drautos, preventing him from reaching the vehicle. Unlike back at the palace, now he could keep up with him; the Kings not only had bestowed him with magic, they had also enhanced his fighting abilities.

Drautos slashed at him vertically, but Nyx evaded the sword and jumped on top of the blade, using it to prop himself for a somersault. In midair, he warped just behind Drautos, trying to catch him off-balanced. However, the Captain was quick enough to retaliate with a horizontal cut as he spun around, which Nyx dodged. Another vertical slash and they locked weapons.

Nyx was facing a very dangerous enemy. Having trained for years with Drautos, he thought he already knew every trick the Captain might have under his sleeve. Now he realized that the man had two identities on the battlefield too: If as Drautos he had been a paragon of carefulness and strategy, as Glauca he was a whirlwind of chaos and destruction, and Nyx starting to suspect that the latter had been his true nature all along.

“So,” Drautos said. “The power of the Lucii returns. No matter. You are out of time.”

“For you,” Nyx smirked, parrying his sword to the side. “I'll make some.”

At some distance, a discarded, half-filled bottle of pills lain on the ground, after having being thrown away from a car’s window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing this I realized that Drautos stepped back fron Nyx because he guessed Libertus wanted to kill the glaive and he was just saying: "Oh, do go on, don't let me interrupt your rampage." He thought they would want to kill each other and just... let it happen. He's all brawn and all brain, with no bombastics to add some levity to his character, and I suppose that's what makes him so terrifying...


	12. The General and the Hero

**BOOK 1: KINGSGLAIVE  
**

**CHAPTER 11 – THE GENERAL AND THE HERO**

Traversing the deserted highway was easy enough, Libertus thought. However, when they emerged from a long tunnel which led them to the industrial district, they could see the giant daemons ravaging the buildings.

During the last skirmish the empire had let loose an abomination which still made Libertus’ skin crawl when remembering it. Now they were many of them, like in a fever dream, all wandering through the fire and collapsed buildings, as if they didn’t have a specific target. Despite their vaguely humanoid appearance, they weren’t more intelligent than the basest beast, for the depraved mind which had created them did so with destruction and death as their sole purpose.

**xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx**

The barrage of missiles had interrupted the duel, at least for the moment. Warping away from the monsters’ heavy firing, Nyx tried to take refuge inside a derelict building, but one of the projectiles exploded near him, throwing him inside. Drautos arrived shortly after, landing securely thanks to the propellers on his boots.

“What can you hope to do?” he asked Nyx as he strode confidently towards him. “One man against an Empire. Against the daemons. How will you save Insomnia with no Wall to protect you?”

“You've got it all wrong,” Nyx smirked as he got up. “I'm not fighting to save Insomnia.”

A giant daemon approached the building to Nyx’s right. It was now or never.

He raised his left hand, a crimson light flooding out of him. The ground rumbled, and Drautos heard in the distance roaring war cries.

The statues of the Kings of Old weren’t mere ornaments: They formed the Ancestral Wall, the last line of defense against the invaders; effigies that would be inhabited by the King’s souls in times of dire need. All around the city, those statues came to life, in many cases, tearing down the buildings humans had erected around them.

Nyx saw a flash of blue light to his right. The Founder King warped outside the building before the giant daemon reached it and, with a movement of his greatsword, King Somnus cleaved the structure in two, separating the two human warriors and giving Nyx the upper hand.

For all of Drautos’ strength, Nyx always relied on stealth and speed, and fighting in a collapsing building was the perfect battleground for him.

Drautos tried keeping his balance on the collapsing building. Seeing that his adversary had his guard down, Nyx ran to the quickly expanding chasm and threw his kukri, warping into the other half. Before his feet touched the other side he launched a fireball which hit the crouching Captain. Using the fire and the smoke as a screen, he slashed with his kukri, but the blade already met the greatsword with a metallic clang. Drautos was now on his feet, slashing horizontally and then vertically. Until that moment Nyx could only stall the General, but he thought he could see a pattern already.

They locked weapons again and, when Drautos led his sword to the right, doing a spinning attack, Nyx crouched, waiting for the greatsword to pass above his head. Once he fully spun around, Drautos left an opening on his left, which Nyx used to finally stab him on that arm. However, he hadn’t counted on the armor’s durability, and Drautos back handed him with enough strength to launch him thirty feet away.

The building was falling to the side, and the floor tilted until it was almost vertical. Drautos jumped using his powered boots and Nyx, who had to nail his kukri to the ground so as not to fall to the void, warped after him.

He caught the Captain free falling near the side of a crystal skyscraper. Tackling him, Nyx caught the armor by the shoulders and shoved Drautos against the windows as they both fell down. Crystal flew in every direction until the Captain used the building as leverage to jump away, landing heavily at the top of a smaller tower. Running along the edge of the roof to gain momentum, he jumped, this time landing on the shoulder of one of the giant armors, where he had seen the telltale blue flash of a warping spell.

Jumping as he lifted his greatsword, his steel clanged against a magic barrier. Nyx dispelled it just as Drautos reeled from his own attack, but the greatsword parried his smaller blade and slashed at him. Nyx could only step back and let himself fall on his back to avoid the sword.

The statue they had landed in was that of The Oracle, a king of Lucis who had seen the Oracle of his time perish, and wielded her trident until a successor could be named. Sensing that one of the warships powered up his cannon to fire at the city again, The Oracle threw his weapon and warped towards it, leaving the two warriors to plummet to the void.

As they fell, Drautos tried to slash at Nyx, but the younger man warped away just before the nearest warship fired, and the Captain took the impact full. The buildings behind him exploded in a cloud of fire and black smoke, and the ground shook as with an earthquake.

**xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx**

Inside the Empire’s flagship, Iedolas sat silently at the chair of command, while Ardyn looked at the ongoing battle through the screens.

“So this is the power of the Old Wall,” he wondered. “Marvelous! Truly marvelous!”

**xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx**

Warping blindly, Nyx found himself free falling once his energy was depleted. He landed heavily on something metallic, and instinctively cleaved at it to stop himself from sliding down. Looking up, he saw it was the Founder King. The giant armor was running towards the warships, crashing into skyscrapers as he launched his sword towards the enemy, warping to the deck of one of the dreadnoughts and carrying Nyx with him. Using the statue’s momentum’s, Nyx jumped to the ship and ran as fast as he could: he had seen the reddish glow of Drautos’ armor at the other side.

When both men clashed, Nyx met Drautos’ sword with a lightning bolt which threw the armored man overboard. The glaive jumped behind him to catch him airborne, and a falling piece of concrete served, for a split second, as an improvised battleground. Again, steel met lightning, and Nyx measured his nimbleness with his adversary’s raw strength.

At the same time, the King nicknamed “The Fierce” due to his brutality in the battlefield, fought head to head against one of the giant daemons. A warship shot him square in the chest. However, when the flames dissipated, The Fierce got up with a roar of fury and threw his giant club at the dreadnought. Warping on top of it, and despite the hole on his chest, he began ravaging the ship, tearing it apart in midair, and at the cost of his own arm.

After their fall, Nyx and Drautos landed atop another dreadnought.

“Why’d you do it?” Nyx screamed at him.

“Lucis. Niflheim. It isn't who we fight for that matters, only what. We fight for our homes. That is where our allegiance lies.”

Something else landed on top of the warship, nearly throwing both men out of balance. It was The Fierce which, even one-armed, kept honoring his moniker and who now tried to climb onto the warship’s deck.

At the same time, more dreadnoughts arrived with more giant daemons. The Rogue, the only Queen to sit on the Lucis throne, noticed it too. She threw her giant shuriken at one of the daemons, perching on its shoulders and slashing at its face, trying also to reach the cords holding it in place. The beast, maddened with pain, retaliated firing its missiles, severing the cords binding it and hitting many of the ships carrying it. Falling, the beast landed heavily on top of the same dreadnought the fierce had reached, and the King of Yore readied for combat.

Somnus warped towards another giant daemon, this time aiming to the bright red light on the chest of the abomination, making it explode with magitek energy.

The Fierce clambered to the deck, his only arm aiming to squash Drautos, who jumped away, and came to land on the daemon’s chest. Nyx warped to land on the pursuing statue, knowing it would take him to the Captain.

Drautos saw how the giant fist reeled back and launched a punch, but he had another enemy. He jumped to meet Nyx in mid-air and they clashed yet again as The Fierce punched the daemon, breaking the armor plate on its head. They came to land on the daemon’s shoulder as it was thrown out of the ship, landing on another dreadnought, and clambering into it as the ship fell.

Nyx stepped back as Drautos slashed downwards, then leaped to stab at his helmet, but the Captain was fast with his greatsword and, as he parried, he landed a kick on Nyx’s stomach, sending him tumbling backwards. Drautos tried using that moment to jump with his powered boots, his sword’s tip trained downwards. Nyx dodged just in time, to only feel the sparks of the greatsword slashing at the daemon's shell. But it wasn’t just the Captain’s sword what Nyx avoided when he warped away: Drautos looked upwards when he heard a roar, to see The Fierce falling from the ship they had been before, still pursuing the daemon.

The statue grabbed at the daemon, dragging the beast with it and both fell among the already dilapidated buildings. Before he could be caught under the statue, Nyx warped, lading safely on the ground as The Fierce hit the ground, making it shake violently.

The dreadnoughts, now aflame, nosedived onto the skyscrapers as the other statues fought against the remaining daemons among a sea of flames.

**xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx**

Emperor Aldercapt kept close tabs with the battle below, or so it seemed. His head was aimed at the screen in front of him, but his eyes were unfocussed and lost in the distance.

“Oh, such a pitiable waste!” Ardyn lamented aloud. “All those beautiful city streets, all laid to unsightly ruin.”

“I will return to Niflheim,” the Emperor ordered all of a sudden, as if he hadn’t been listening to anything his Chancellor had said to that point.

“So soon?”

“The Crystal is ours,” he said curtly, and then his mouth curled in a grimace of disgust. “Finish this, and see the daemons disposed of.”

“As you command,” Ardyn said, bowing deeply.

The emperor could still hear him murmuring as he went away: “Such a pitiable waste…”

**xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx**

Drautos’ armor was a marvel of imperial technology. Bestowed with regenerative properties, it allowed its wearer to face many deathly situations without letting its owner suffer a single scratch. It had never failed him, and not even fighting among all the heavy firing of the dreadnoughts and the power of the Old Wall had diminished its properties.

However, being shot point-blank by a dreadnought’s cannon twice and falling from the height of a skyscraper yet again had, by necessity, to have some consequences. Drautos jolted back to consciousness thanks to the device pumping adrenaline on his system. He felt an almost overwhelming dizziness, and the overheating helmet and cuirass threatened to burn his skin. His greatsword was still on his hands, thankfully. With a grunt, he used it as a cane to get on his feet. The armor would cool down in a few minutes, but he had to keep going, no matter what. He knew there would no place for a murderer like him amongst his fellow countrymen, but he had to keep fighting for them, for their freedom. He repeated himself that mantra, as he had been doing during those long ten odd years, whenever his will threatened to fail him.

If only he could stand on his feet once more…

With a push from his arms he got laboriously on his knees. Suddenly his body seemed to weight twice as normal: the armor hadn’t recovered yet. There was a flash of blue light out of his range of vision, then a jolt of lightning shook him and sent him tumbling backwards, to a hollow formed by the ruins of a fallen building. Nyx stood now where Drautos had been, in an upper level overlooking the rubble below.

“How could you serve the Empire?” Nyx screamed at him. His eyes glowed unnaturally, not so much from the fire burning around them, as from the power of the Kings consuming him. That same power manifested on the glowing veins coursing through his left hand and reaching his left cheek. “After everything they did!”

The lightning bolt had broken through the overheated armor, splitting the helmet in two and disintegrating part of the upper right plate. Drautos felt the air on his now partially bared face, a respite from the sweltering heat he had suffered moments before. Such were the damages to his armor that its metal didn’t regenerate, but at least it had recovered its healing functions.

“I do not fault them for taking what was given,” he said, getting on his feet, his voice nearly normal again, now that half his face was visible. “I fault the man who gave it. The man who cowered behind his Wall and abandoned us to save his throne and his son. Give me the Ring, and our homes will be free again. The empire has promised it!”

“I don't see much of a future on the other side of that promise.”

“Don't be a fool. Save your friends. Give your dead sister peace. What do you fight for if not that?”

That was a low blow. Drautos had been his mentor from the day he had arrived at Insomnia and applied for the Kingsglaive. Though very demanding and tough, all the glaives shared a deep respect for the Captain, a foreigner who had also lost his home and gods knew what more, yet had attained the highest honor inside the Insomnian Army. Unforthcoming and unforgiving towards failure, still he would have words of encouragement and wisdom for his subordinates when needed.

Drautos had known about Nyx’s family from the day the young man joined the Kingsglaive, and it had been that moment when the Captain decided to tame the raw fury Nyx oozed. But several weeks of training had to go by for Nyx to finally open up and give the Captain a first-hand account of the events.

The fact Drautos had betrayed his loyalty was something Nyx could never forgive, moreover when Crowe’s face flashed before him. She had trusted the Captain, and she had been a good friend to Nyx. So had been Pelna. So was Libertus.

But he had used that loyalty and twisted it to betray them all. He remembered how Drautos prodded him that morning before he met the Princess. Nyx thought the Captain had done it out of duty, to see how much dissenting existed among the Kingsglaive ranks. However, he was only testing him, seeing if he could drag him to his side.

Now Nyx could see the Captain as he was: a formidable and brutal warrior, but also a dangerously astute and silver-tongued manipulator. The mask had slipped, and now the real Titus Drautos stood before him, tall and proud: his formerly deadpan expression was no more, and his dark-blue eyes shone with ferocious blood-lust as his lips curled in a confident, broad smile.

Drautos had a keen eye to spot others’ weaknesses, both in the battlefield and outside of it, to then exploit them without mercy. He had turned the glaives, one by one, against their king and against their own comrades, and only the Six knew which poisonous words he had seeped into Libertus’ mind to make him, of all people, work with terrorists.

Baring his fangs, Nyx leaped from his vantage point. He warped towards the Captain, dodging by millimeters the sword which was already waiting for his neck. He warped again, this time at some distance behind Drautos and, as he fell, spinning, to the ground, he launched a fireball that engulfed the armored man in a cloud of smoke. Nyx hit heavily the floor; he knew he would be exposed when he tried getting up next, but he expected the fire to reach the unprotected parts and, at least, slow the man down.

From the cloud of smoke something appeared. It wasn’t Drautos, but something a bit smaller and much thinner which came, spinning, towards him. Only when it hit squarely on his chest with a metallic clang he realized it was Drautos’ greatsword. Its wielder appeared a second later, grabbing it mid-air and slashing downwards, this time trapping Nyx’s left arm under it.

The magic fire had heated the blade, and Nyx screamed as his arm caught fire. Drautos seized him by the collar, propping him up and exposing his throat. The glaive used that moment to shove the grabbing hand away and reach for his fallen kukri some paces away, warping out of the Captain’s reach.

Blind with pain, he could only roll away and try to stagger to his feet, but he remained there, half kneeling. His left arm, now devoid of clothing, was of an ashen color broken by orange veins, as the power of the Lucii burned inside him.

His strength failed him in the end, and he fell to the ground, gazing helplessly as Drautos got to his feet. The Captain slowly strode towards him, as if to deliver the coup de grace. However, the armored man saw that, defiant as Nyx’s eyes still were, the power of the Kings was slowly draining his life force. As things were, the glaive didn’t have much time left.

Drautos lowered his blade and, instead of killing Nyx, he turned away: His former pupil didn’t have the Ring, and wouldn’t pose a threat to his mission anymore.

Nyx was already out of energy and out of breath, and he could only watch as his Captain leaped away and disappeared into the fire and smoke. He knew where Drautos had gone, and prayed to the Kings for a last miracle.

**xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx**

Driving a car at full speed while imperial warships exploded and crashed around them, and having to swerve several times to avoid the falling debris, wasn’t Libertus’ idea of an ideal escape, but so far no one had taken notice of them.

A humanoid armored figure landed at some distance in front of them. Drautos.

Instead of swerving to avoid him, Libertus stepped on the gas. The Captain hit it with a thud as the car sped forward, but he had gotten a firm hold of the front and tried to stop the vehicle, planting his feet firmly on the ground and making two deep tracks on the tarmac as he was pushed forward. With a titanic effort, the Captain lifted the upper part of the car, enough for it to loose traction and speed.

He then jumped to the copilot door and his arm smashed through window, trying to reach Luna. Libertus yanked her to the pilot seat as he perched outside the car, trying to reach Drautos over the roof. With a leap, he stuck Nyx’s kukri on the Captain’s right shoulder, but the armor had recovered its regenerating properties and the weapon sank into the liquid metal. The Captain grabbed Libertus’ head and tried to wrestle him off the car’s roof, when the glaive screamed to the Princess. She swerved towards the nearby wall, crushing Drautos in between.

A blue-white flash shone at one side of the highway: The Founder King’s statue had seen Drautos.

The giant statue, with a deft flicker of its wrist, traced an arc with its sword between the car and the wall, dislodging Drautos and leaving him lying on the ground, momentarily unconscious. Luna stepped even further on the gas, and the car flew over a gap on the road. They landed with a bump, and Libertus fell off the roof.

There was a moment of silence as both tried catching their breath.

Libertus barely felt the pain on his leg anymore. Maybe this was what he needed, more than the painkillers, he thought as he got to his feet.

“You’re all right?” he asked the Princess, who was already leaving the pilot seat to make room for him.

Before getting in the car again, Libertus threw one last glance towards the statue of the Founder King, now facing one of the giant daemons. Nyx was on its shoulder, crouching like a stalking coeurl, purple scarf fluttering in the wind, as each time they were waiting for a combat to start.

“I’ll be waiting for you, hero,” Libertus murmured, trying to push away his own fears.

**xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx**

Pursuing Drautos, Nyx had warped to the Founder King’s shoulder. The Captain stood atop the beast, sword in hand, waiting for Nyx. Despite the smoke and the fire, the glaive noticed a change in the light: to the East the clouds parted, giving way to the incoming dawn.

“What of your Kings’ power now?” Drautos taunted. “They’ve given you a burden you cannot hope to bear. I told you before. Just wanting doesn’t win wars.”

Nyx didn’t listen. His hand was already turning to ash as dawn approached. Throwing his kukri in the air and catching it, blade downwards, he steeled himself for the last assault.

The giant daemon’s shoulders slowly opened to fire away. Nyx sunk his kukri into the statue, as a signal to attack and, Somnus’ effigy cleaved at the daemon, interrupting the attack. The sword broke, and Somnus reared back his fist to deliver a punch. As the gauntlet passed in front of the giant helmet, Nyx leaped on top of it to get close to Drautos, who jumped just in time to meet his adversary in mid-air.

The Captain didn’t have enough leverage, though, and his downward slash was stopped by Nyx’s blade. They were locked as they fell, spinning, to the void. Nyx wrestled with him, being aerial combat the only place he could have the upper hand. Around them, the giant daemon bashed the Founder King, who answered tackling at it and smashing it against a skyscraper, sending the whole building crashing down.

They landed on one of the helmet’s horns. Drautos lunged towards Nyx, tackling him and sending the two men to the statue’s shoulder. The Captain landed on his feet, but Nyx was quick enough to meet the greatsword with a shield spell; however, Drautos’ strength was enough to off-balance him for a moment. Nyx moved his feet and regained his equilibrium to block two more blows before jumping back to the statue’s arm. Drautos pursued him, but Nyx dodged another downward slash before warping at the Captain’s back, who spun around, as if anticipating already that movement. Drautos cleaved at him again, but instead of warping, Nyx dodged, parrying with his kukri and scrambling backwards. Expecting him to get on his feet, Drautos spun around, slashing horizontally to the right and to the left, but Nyx dodged again and warped a few feet away. The Captain leaped forward, bringing his greatsword down. There they locked blades for a moment, until Nyx kicked him in the chest. Drautos reeled but a moment, before delivering an upwards slash which Nyx parried. He then brought his sword down, and Nyx blasted him with a lightning bolt which sent him tumbling backwards.

Nyx tried surprising him, carrying the kukri on his left hand, but Drautos was quickly on his feet and slashed horizontally. Using his momentum, Nyx slid under the sword and was at the Captain’s back, who didn’t stop his blade and carried it all the way around to make a full spin. Nyx had swapped his blade from his left to his right hand then, and parried while covering his own head. Drautos reeled but a second, though it was enough to leave an opening that Nyx used to punch him in the face with the hand wielding the kukri. Then he tackled the Captain with his shoulder, sending them both falling down.

They wrestled again in mid-air, Nyx spinning his kukri to a downwards grip and stabbing, as hard as he could, at the armor plate. Drautos grabbed his wrists and kicked him hard, sending him far from him. The two men fell and were lost in a cloud of black smoke.

**xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx**

The one-time majestic city of Insomnia lain in ruins and silence. Unchecked fires kept erupting among the ruined buildings and the smoke mixed with the morning’s fog to envelop the metropolis in death shroud.

Drautos staggered to his feet among the rubble. With a grunt, he took Nyx’s kukri from his chest. The bastard had plunged it nearly to the guard, missing the heart by less than an inch. He threw the bloodied weapon to the ground, feeling how the armor mended his wounds.

Nyx lain some feet away, breathing laboriously and grimacing in pain. The ashen veins now glowed as the King’s power burned inside him with more strength. With wobbling steps, Drautos approached him, sword gripped firmly on his right hand.

“For honor of my home,” he said, breathing hard. “I fought and I killed under a king I loathed. And still he betrayed me. He betrayed us all.”

The glaive tried getting to his feet with a groan of pain, but he could only turn on his side to face his adversary.

“We fought for the same thing,” Nyx gasped as he slowly stumbled to his feet. “All of us. But you've looked too long on the past. You're blind to the future.”

With those words, he warped again to his discarded kukri. This time, Drautos was waiting for him, and with a clean swipe he disarmed him, grabbing him by the throat next.

“Predictable,” he said with disdain, lifting him from the ground. “Unlike you, I learn from history.”

“But you're a slave to the past,” Nyx whizzed, grappling at Drautos’ left arm.

“A man's past is his pride.”

“No.”

With the first rays of light, Nyx hand burst in flames. It wasn’t a violent combustion like Ravus’ or Luche’s, but a slow, gentle fire spreading through his body. He grabbed at Drautos’ arm with a smirk and didn’t let go. The Captain looked in astonishment as the fire spread through his armor.

“My pride is shaping the future,” Nyx declared.

His entire body had caught fire, and Drautos discovered Nyx’s intentions far too late when he felt the armor overheating. He tried letting go of him, but Nyx’s grasp was stronger than he thought. Now Nyx could see his other kukri, the one Libertus had stuck on Drautos’ right shoulder, appearing through the melting plates.

“Looks like I’m gonna owe him big,” he murmured with a smirk.

Drautos brought the sword in a wide arc, trying to decapitate Nyx, but the glaive warped again, this time towards the kukri stuck on the armor, which he yanked free. The Captain tried to spin around in time, but he was too worn out and the fire had caused the armor to malfunction. The moment he faced Nyx, the glaive plunged the blade on his chest, this time driving it all the way to the guard and through the heart.

Behind them, Somnus’ statue landed a heavy punch on the giant daemon, finally breaking the core which powered up the monster. All around Insomnia the Kings were felling the monsters, now weak with the upcoming sunrise and without the support of the imperial army.

In another part of Insomnia, a car sped its way to the West Gate, this time, unhindered.

**xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx**

Nyx sat down heavily among the wreckage, now truly spent. The warm rays of the sun touched his ashen skin, the glowing veins now ashen white.

“King Regis did what he did for the future,” he said to the prone figure of Drautos. “Because of him, there's still hope for our homes.”

“Hope…” Drautos echoed, weakly shaking his head. It had been too long since he had forgotten the meaning of that word, too long since he had started a path which forsook any possibility of a future for him.

Nyx sighed, and turned to watch the dawn breaking through the clouds. He began to disintegrate, but he only smiled. It was the first time in years that he did so sincerely, knowing that his duty had been fulfilled and that he would be reunited at long last with those he loved.

“Not the worst way to go,” he murmured, finally closing his eyes as his body slowly turned into flecks of ash. “Rule well, young king…”

**xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx**

Libertus and Luna stood outside the Western Gates, now deserted. They waited, and waited, until the sun was high above the clouds.

“We should move,” Libertus said at last. “It ain't safe here either.”

She didn’t move, still looking at the road into the city.

“Hey, don’t worry about Nyx,” he continued, despite having to blink some tears away. “He can take care of himself. Come on.”

“No.”

He limped back to the car, now the pain on his leg returning as the adrenaline on his system wore off. That simple word, spoken in a quiet voice, made him turn around with a frown.

“We must part ways here.”

“What?”

“I can hardly travel in secrecy alongside so great a hero,” she smiled warmly at him. “And I, too, have a promise to keep to Nyx. I pray you two see each other again soon.”

Libertus blinked more tears away.

“Yeah,” he managed to say in a hoarse voice. “Me too.”

“Thank you, Libertus,” she simply said, before walking away towards the city’s exit.

Libertus could find his own voice when she was at a distance.

“Hey, queen!” he shouted. “You and the king are always welcome in Galahd! Me and Nyx will be waiting for you!”

It was good that she was far away when she turned to wave back. Even though he could still distinguish her smile and the nod she gave him, he hoped she couldn’t see the tears now running down his cheeks.

_To be continued on Book II: The Tale of the Chosen King._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And, that's it! That's a wrap to this story. It was hard saying goodbye to Nyx and all the gang because they really grown on you. Now it's turn for the Chocobros to be traumatiz-I MEAN! On the spotlight. Yeah, on the spotlight, that's right. The world right now is a royal mess and we have to keep our chin up and our hope alive. Let's put to good use all the lessons Final Fantasy games have taught us and let's keep hoping and fighting, no matter how dark the night seems to be.


	13. Ill Tidings

**BOOK II: THE TALE OF THE CHOSEN KING**

**CHAPTER 1 – ILL TIDINGS**

**The day after the signing ceremony:**

Noctis woke up after a restless night. Unable to remember his dreams, he rubbed tiredly his eyes as he got up. The sea breeze entering through the balcony door helped him wake up, but couldn’t dispel the restlessness which had set at the pit of his stomach.

Looking around him, he could see that Ignis wasn’t there.

“Heya, morning,” Prompto murmured from his bed, stifling a yawn.

Gladio sat by the table, reading a book. He probably had woken up before the sunrise, gone to run and train at the beach and had time to go back to the room, take a shower and wait for them to wake up.

“Where’s Spects?” Noctis mumbled.

“Should be back any minute now,” Gladio said.

Noctis yawned, putting on his boots. Surely Ignis was making sure that Dino didn’t play them. He smirked, trying to imagine the altissian trying to bargain with Ignis. As calm and collected as he always looked, he could be a ruthless negotiator.

They all looked up when the door opened. Noctis was about to greet him, but Ignis’ expression stilled the words on his throat.

His retainer was pale, and the shadow of an anguished gesture threatened to break his barely composed carriage. Gladio was the first one to shoot up from his chair and ask him what happened, but Ignis ignored the Shield, his green eyes never leaving Noctis.

“What’s that look for?” the prince asked, already fearing Dino had tricked them.

“It’s in all the papers,” Ignis murmured, handing Gladio the newspaper he was carrying.

“What is?” Noctis insisted, seeing that Gladio was turning pale too.

Prompto read the header aloud.

“ _Insomnia… falls?_ ”

“Is this your idea of a joke?” Noctis asked angrily.

“I need you to calm down so I can explain,” Ignis intervened, slowly regaining his composure.

“I’m as calm as I’m gonna get!”

“There was an attack. The imperial army has taken the Crown City.”

Gladio interrupted Noctis’ upcoming outburst.

“ _As treaty room tempers flared,_ ” he read aloud. “ _Blasts lit the night sky. When the smoke about the Citadel had cleared, the King was found… dead._ ”

“No, wait, hold on…”

“We had no way of knowing,” said Ignis.

“What? Knowing what?”

“That the signing was last night, that Insomnia…”

“But the wedding! Altissia!”

“I know,” Ignis raised his voice ever so slightly, facing the prince. “That was the plan. Yet the reports of the invasion are all the same. How could every headline in the kingdom be wrong?”

“… Lies,” Noctis shook his head, his voice almost cracking.

“If only…” Prompto murmured.

“What else do we know?” Gladio asked, after reading the entire article.

Ignis shook his head. Information was scarce and they could only rely on the press. Then again, the press can only be relied upon so much.

“Then we can’t be sure until we see it with our own eyes,” Gladio insisted. It was like him to tackle problems head on instead of letting them run him over.

“And that means we go back to Insomnia,” Prompto pointed out.

“Might not be safe for us there,” Ignis mused.

“Might not be safe for us here,” the gunslinger insisted.

“Turn back?” Gladio asked Noctis, who had dropped heavily on one of the chairs.

The prince looked at his friends for a moment, and then something changed in his blue eyes.

“Yeah,” he said.

**xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx**

They drove in silence until they passed the Hammerhead garage. Despite the good weather they had left behind in Galdin Quay, in the desert around Insomnia the sky was overcast, and it wasn’t long before rain began pattering against the car’s windows.

“I hope everyone’s okay…” Prompto began timidly once Cid and Cindy’s home was behind them.

“Lotta good hoping’s gonna do,” Noctis grumbled.

“You mustn’t lose faith,” Ignis pointed out.

“Really? Can faith stop a fleet of imperial dreadnoughts?”

“Give it a rest,” Gladio chimed in.

“My old man had plenty of faith!” Noctis kept on, his voice nearly cracking.

“Enough,” his Shield said softly.

“The Empire lied,” Prompto continued. “They betrayed us.”

“Conjecture gets us nowhere,” Ignis firmly asserted. “We’re searching for truth.”

“All you’ll find are lies,” Noctis muttered. “Like that ceasefire.”

The insomnian border wasn’t far away. The sound of the rain pattering against the windows was briefly muted when several dreadnoughts flew over their heads at low altitude, making the ground rumble.

“Look at the size of those things,” Gladio pointed.

“Imperial dreadnoughts,” Ignis said. “They transport soldiers. Namely, the magitek infantry,”

“The robots?”

“Mass-produced humanoid weapons of warfare,” the retainer kept explaining. “To be more precise.”

“Doesn’t look like they’ll be signing that peace treaty,” Prompto commented.

The access door was up ahead now. Ignis had to step on the brakes when he saw long lines of cars waiting to enter and to exit the city. MTs inspected each one of them, opening trunks and ordering some of the occupants to get off their vehicles, probably looking for palace workers or any other individual that might interest the empire.

Gladio instructed him to turn left and take a dirt road which would lead them up a hill he knew. They had to get off the car not too far from the main road, but the Regalia would still be away from imperial soldiers’ sight. Following the road, they came upon old ruins from the last years of the war.

MT patrolled said ruins, but their number wasn’t enough to pose a threat for them, as long as they kept some sort of strategy. As much as Noctis wanted to jump head first and vent his rage, Ignis restrained him and gave him instructions about the plan of attack he had in mind.

It was good exercise for Noctis and, as they made their progress, they couldn’t help noticing that more dreadnoughts and assault crafts kept arriving at the city.

“Where do they keep coming?” Gladio mused when they reached a narrow path between rocky walls.

“Can’t imagine what’s like inside,” murmured Prompto.

Noctis said nothing, too focused on taking down the MTs: Empty humanoid soldiers, soulless and merciless, as Ignis had explained to them.

They stopped upon reaching the hill Gladio told them about.

The narrow path opened to a small plateau of sorts from where they could see the bridge crossing the sea and, in the distance, Insomnia’s skyline behind the concrete wall surrounding the city. The thin curtain of rain mingled with the fog rising from the harbor gave the city a ghostly appearance. It would have been hard to believe Insomnia as a war zone, if not for the plumes of black smoke rising from several points.

They stood there in silence, with the now intensifying rain as the only sound around them. In the distance, they would see the faint outlines of the dreadnoughts, the sound of their rumbling engines reaching them as the howl of some giant beast.

Prompto had turned on the radio on his cellphone to see if they could listen to any newscast.

 _“As to ceasefire discussion between the two nations,”_ the announcer was saying. _“All provisional terms have been suspended in light of recent developments. Moreover, in the wake of King Regis’ death, we’ve now received word that Crown Prince Noctis and the Oracle Lunafreya have also been pronounced dead.”_

The news had made Prompto drop his cell.

“Keep it up!” Gladio urged.

“Don’t bother!” Noctis yelled.

In the upcoming silence, each man took his own cell and tried to call their closest ones. A new wave of ships overflew them, making their clothes flutter in the wind.

Someone seemed to pick up at last on Noctis’ cell.

“Hello?” Noctis called, trying to keep his voice from wavering. “Cor?”

 _“So,”_ came a firm, deep voice from the other side. _“You made it.”_

“The hell’s going on?”

_“Where are you?”_

“Outside the city, with no way back in.”

_“Makes sense.”_

“ _Makes sense_? Are you serious? What about any of this makes sense? The news just told me I’m dead… along with my father and Luna.”

_“Listen. I’m heading out to Hammerhead. About the King… it’s true. If you’re looking for the whole truth, you know where to find me. Get moving.”_

“Right,” Noctis managed to utter.

There was nothing else to say. His friends asked about what the marshal had to say, but Noctis could only repeat the necessary, and that they had to go to Cid’s repair shop. They slipped quietly out of the hill and the ruins, and they made their way there. None of them had the strength to say anything more.

**xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx**

Getting out of Insomnia hadn’t been too difficult. People helped her hide from the imperial soldiers, and one family had offered to take her in their car to wherever she wanted to go. The only thing Luna had asked for was their silence.

Being the Oracle was an arduous task. Only she had the power to keep the Starscourge at bay, and her presence was required in many parts of Tenebrae and Lucis. Her blessing, though much sought after and thanked for, wasn’t a definite cure, and only worked if she treated the afflicted in time. Ancient words said that, should the Starscourge grow unchecked, darkness would cover the sky, and the world would know an eternal night. That was the reason why her fame surpassed that of the Lucis Caelum family outside Insomnia and, should the empire harmed her, the populace would riot.

She had contacted Gentiana as soon as she was outside Insomnia. Her aid would be waiting for her at the agreed point, very far from the Crown City.

There she was, tall and dark-haired, her patient maid. Umbra and Pryna, upon seeing their owned, ran towards her. Luna knelt to hug her dogs, smiling happily for the first time in a long time.

She went for the satchel Umbra wore, finding her diary: Noctis had written on it. He was alive. That was the only thing she needed to know.

Letting go of a relieved sigh, she relaxed at last. She had a mission now, a destiny to fulfill, and she would see it through.

**xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx**

“Don’t suppose the Crownsguard is still active,” Gladio mused as they drove away from the Crown City.

“Wouldn’t count on it,” Ignis said. “Not with the marshal out here.”

“I wonder how things are in the city…” Prompto muttered.

“There should be reports before long.”

“Yeah,” Gladio assured. “Something this big can’t go ignored.”

“And what about us? What do we do?”

“We make for Hammerhead now,” Ignis sighed. “And figure the rest out later.”

Noctis sat silently at the back of the car, looking at the gloomy landscape passing by.

“Got a message form my sister,” Gladio said casually. He had never been one to small talk, but even to him the silence seemed too oppressive that time. “She’s with refugees bound for Lestallum.”

“Well,” Prompto chimed in. “At least Iris is okay.”

“Yeah. Doesn’t sound like everyone else was so lucky, though.”

“We’d best make haste,” Ignis pointed out. “Noct won’t be dead forever.”

“No going back,” Prompto pondered. “Only way’s forward.”

“No going back,” echoed Noctis in a flat tone.

The weather hadn’t improved when they reached Hammerhead. Cindy was waiting for them at the shop’s door, under the hammerhead fish shaped roof. Despite the rain, they observed that there were more people that day at the Hammerhead. Unlike the people they saw the previous days, those didn’t seem to be enjoying themselves: Many sat inside their cars while the driver went to the shop, where they stood there with somber expressions. Some of them sat on the wet ground, their backs against the shop’s wall and their eyes lost in the distance. Every single one of them wore clothes made in Insomnia, and in all cases they were dirty with shoot and partially torn at places.

Some men and women, whom the four friends recognized as Meldacio Hunters, had established a post of relief help inside the shop. Since the Yen, Insomnia’s currency, wasn’t admitted outside the Wall, the refugees couldn’t acquire any goods unless they embarked on a hunting job; the Hunters had reached an agreement with the shop owner, on which a package of essential goods would be given to each driver, with the Meldacio members having pitched in to pay for each package’s cost price, so that the shop owner didn’t go bankrupt, and yet the refugees had what they needed.

“Glad y’all made it,” she saluted them, her expression much somber, though she still offered them a sympathetic smile. “No weather for drivin’, that’s for sure.”

“Our thanks,” said Ignis, always polite.

“Where’s Cor?” Prompto asked.

“Left to see to business, and left y’all a message with Paw-paw. Boss ain’t sat still one second since he heard y’all were comin’.”

They found Cid inside the garage. The man looked twenty years older, and sat heavily when he saw the four young men.

“Crystal and the king’s ring,” he said. “What they been after all along…”

“So all talk of peace was merely a pretext,” Ignis deduced.

“They played my father for a fool.”

“Don’t kid yourself,” Cid chided him. “Reggie wasn’t born yesterday. Lucis got dealt a losin’ hand, and your old man played it the best he could. He saw this coming a mile away, and he wasn’t gonna go down without a fight. In the end, though… well, it just wasn’t enough.”

Cid left the wrench his old hands had been playing with on a nearby table.

“You need something, you talk to Cor,” he told them, slowly standing up. “I can’t even remember the last time I saw Reggie. Feels like a lifetime ago.”

He hobbled tiredly out of the garage, leaving them alone. Noctis’ eyes fell on a frame sitting on that small table, next to the newspapers of that day: Four men next to a car, the Regalia. One was his father, the other he recognized as Cid, wearing the same cap, the third companion was a dark skinned man, dressed almost as sharply as Regis was, and the fourth was almost a child, but wore the Crownsguard uniform like a veteran: Cor Leonis.

Cid was a hardy man, and had been never afraid of giving Regis a piece of his mind. As he shuffled to the cafeteria, his mind replayed the last time he talked to his old friend, a few days prior. He had been tempted not to answer the phone but, for reasons he couldn’t explain, he picked up. It had been decades since they last saw each other, and maybe age was softening him, but deep down he missed his old friend. Or, rather, he missed the old times when the four of them jumped into the battlefield and traveled the lands.

Torture wouldn’t wrench the words out of him, but Noctis really took after his father: the lad oozed gullibility, just as his old man did when he was younger. It took some beatings to get Reggie into shape but, in the end, he could at least _look like_ the real deal in the newspapers. And that boy Gladiolus, he was the spitting image of Clarus, with the same thirst for the battlefield burning in his eyes.

Now, with his aching back and his slowly weakening hands, Cid couldn’t even lift a toolbox, and needed his granddaughter to carry on with the business. Cor had turned out all right, though. He could barely recognize the lad when he stepped into the garage that morning. Boy, he was tall now! A proper soldier and a proper man, at last, and not a runt waving around a katana longer than he was tall.

Entering the cafeteria, he ordered a whiskey and went to sit by the window, far from the other clients. Takka served him right away. He was a good fella. Former bandit, all right, but once you beat the shit out of him and offered him an honest job he would see reason.

Cid lifted the glass towards the grey sky, hoping both Regis and Clarus would see him, wherever they were, and downed it in one gulp. He squeezed his eyes shut, leaving the liquor warm his throat and chest. When you are old, the last thing you would expect or want is to bury people younger than yourself. Lowering his cap’s peak, he sat there, hunched over the empty glass.

Better to look like he was drunk than letting anyone see his tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The scene at the very end with Cid alone never appears in the game, and it's only how I guess things might have gone for the poor man and how he would mourn his fallen comrades and old friends. I think it would have been a good idea to show the contrast between an old, experienced adventurer like Cid, who is in the twilight of his life, with those younger ones who are taking over.


	14. No Turning Back

**BOOK 2: THE TALE OF THE CHOSEN KING  
**

**CHAPTER 2 – NO TURNING BACK**

**The days after the Fall of Insomnia**

They rain had stopped by dusk on the day they arrived at Hammerhead. Tired from their ordeal, the four friends took Cindy’s offer to rent the caravan yet again. Cor would be waiting for them at the tombs, sitting at the north-west part of the Leide region.

“Just a short ways past the outpost,” Cindy told them. “Find that first.”

The Prairie Outpost Cindy mentioned belonged to the Meldacio League, and she assured they would be welcomed there after what they had done for Dave. The next morning they packed their things, bought whatever they would need on their travel and drove northwards.

Once the sky was clear, they could see the prairies north of Hammerhead as they were most of the year. In contrast with the more windswept plains near the city, past Hammerhead the rocky terrain was covered in golden grass, with solitary trees scattered here and there, offering the local fauna some shelter from the scorching sun. Prompto took as many photos as he could, especially at the herds of long-necked anaks; he thought about making some comments to his friends, but each time he looked at the back seat and saw Noctis’ expression, he let it rest.

Halfway through, they noticed a shadow obscuring the morning sun. None of them thought much about it, believing it to be a stray cloud. Ignis, however, swerved to the side of the road and slammed on the brakes.

An assault craft had stopped some yards away, hovering over the road. Its door opened, and MTs jumped to the tarmac, running straight towards the Regalia.

“Imperials!” Ignis screamed, getting out of the car.

Whether if the soldiers had spotted the Regalia, or they were simply attacking any insomnian car at random, they didn’t know, and they didn’t have time to find out. Gladio swept the first wave with his greastsword while Prompto covered him. Ignis, for his part, engaged one of them, stabbing it on the face before Noctis cleaved at the body with his sword. The prince switched to a greatsword and joined Gladio, who at some point let his blade rest on the ground and shouted to Noctis. The prince, knowing the signal, stepped on the blade and Gladio hefted it, propelling his friend in the air. Noctis switched in mid-air to a lance and fell among a small group of MTs, cleaving at one while the shockwave threw the rest to the ground; there Gladio and Ignis made short work of them.

Gladio heard a bang near him. Turning, he saw an MT with half its head missing falling to the ground. Several paces away, Prompto blew the smoke from one of his guns and smirked at him. The Shield chuckled as he swept his blade upwards at an incoming soldier. With time, maybe even Prompto could learn not to be a chicken-wuss.

One thing that unnerved any inexperienced warrior who faced the MTs was their persistency. It didn’t matter if they were outnumbered, or crippled, or half their body was missing, they kept fighting until they were completely disabled. Destroying the head was the quickest way, through sometimes the most difficult. A telltale sign that they would never bother anyone again was the dark gas-like substance escaping from the metal armor. And the screams. Few people got used to the squeaking hinges failing, for they sounded very much like human screams.

The four friends cleared the road after the skirmish, dragging the MTs to the side or, in Gladio’s case, hoisting them over his broad shoulders in twos and dumping them as far as he could.

There was no celebration afterwards, and Noctis didn’t say much after he kicked the last MT down the ditch. During the rest of the trip they all kept an eye on the sky.

The dirt road leading to the Outpost was easy to miss and, following it, the sight of several reclaimed buildings where the hunters lived greeted them. They arrived early in the morning, but the settlement was already bustling with activity. In the central structure someone Gladio knew well waited for them.

Monica Elshett was a veteran of the Crownsguard. Under her discreet appearance and behind her quiet demeanor, however, there was a fierce warrior and a competent administrator who worked directly under the orders of Cor Leonis.

“Your Highness,” she knelt before Noctis. “I’m glad you’re safe.”

“Monica!” Gladio exclaimed, surprised to see her there. “Were’re all the others?”

“Most of the Crownsguard didn’t make it,” she lowered her head, but didn’t let sadness overcome her. “It was all we could to escort Lady Iris out of the city. Dustin is with her as we speak, seeing her the rest of the way to Lestallum.”

“I owe you guys big time.”

“Head to the royal tomb,” she instructed them, after bowing her head to Gladio. “The marshal awaits there.”

The tomb in question was past the outpost, hidden among the rocky hills, though not far away.

When crossing the settlement, they noticed some tables and chairs outside the buildings: a place where the hunters could relax in the shade between missions. There was also a radio nearby, sitting atop a side table. Someone had placed a bouquet of sylleblossoms next to it.

 _“Across the land,”_ said the newscaster. _“Sylleblossoms from Tenebrae can be seen displayed in memoriam. With no remains to mourn, throngs have gathered in Altissia to pay their respects, many offering prayers at a vigil held before the wedding dress Lady Lunafreya was to wear. While some hold out hope the Oracle still lives, a grim silence continues to linger.”_

As if he needed more reminders of that.

Noctis stomped his way out of the settlement, his companions following suit in silence.

The rocky terrain made walking difficult without twisting an ankle. Despite his protests the previous days, Noctis walked alongside Gladio, his face set on a grim mask.

“Can’t keep up with this guy,” Gladio commented, referring to Cor.

“First the Crown City, then Hammerhead, then the royal tomb?” Prompto wondered.

“His nickname should have been _Cor the Restless_ ”, Ignis pointed out.

“Somehow not as catchy as _Cor the Immortal_ ”, came the joking retort from Gladio.

“Making it out of Insomnia only adds to his legend,” said Prompto.

“Well,” Noctis commented for the first time. “Fortune favors the bold.”

“Uh?”

“The wise make their own luck,” Ignis piped up.

“You think it’s a coincidence he’s made it out of all those battles alive?” Gladio looked back at his friend.

Prompto said nothing. There were few people who inspired anything resembling admiration in Gladio, and Cor seemed to be one of those privileged ones. For his part, Prompto already looked up to that man, if only because that was the kind of warrior he aspired to be one day. What was more, Cor had been the one to train him on hand-to-hand combat and, despite his numerous blunders at first, Leonis never put him down, always encouraging him to keep going.

Now, as far as they knew, Titus Drautos and Clarus Amicitia, the other members of the “strongest trio” had also perished, so Cor should be the strongest man in Lucis, maybe? Prompto was about to voice those musings, but thought better of it and kept quiet.

The path forked ahead. To the left it wounded its way into the mountain, among steep rocky walls. Following that direction, they came upon a threshold of sorts sculpted in white marble. Noctis recognized it from the pictures his father had shown him when he was little. Beyond that threshold the natural walls opened and, in the middle of that clearing there was the tomb.

They saw a small, black and white marble mausoleum with stairs leading to an underground chamber. A white marble statue stood at the lintel: a caped figure holding a metal sword. It was impossible to distinguish any detail from that figure, for age and weather had erased its features.

The heavy doors were unlocked. Inside there was a semicircular room with a sarcophagus in its center. Around the tomb, effigies of knights stood in vigil with their swords drawn and, at the far back, the statue of a maiden presided the whole room: the Oracle guarding the sleeping form of the King.

The sarcophagus’ lid represented a king clad in ceremonial armor, which held between his hands a real sword of a dark, glistening metal, and its elaborate craftsmanship was something they had never seen before.

“Marshal,” Ignis’ greeting resonated in the chamber.

“At last, Your Highness,” Cor greeted Noctis. The chamber’s torchlight accentuated his stern gesture.

“Yeah,” said Noctis, never one for formalities, especially that day. “Wanna tell me what I’m here for?”

The marshal ignored the prince’s sour tone, or how his words came out through clenched teeth.

“The power of kings,” he declaimed, both hands hovering over the sword. “Passed from the old to the new generation through the bonding of souls. One such soul lies before you. To claim your forebears’ power is your birthright and duty as king.”

“My duty as king of what?” Noctis spat.

“Now is not the time to question your calling,” Cor scolded him, impassive as always. “A king is sworn to protect his people.”

“And yet he chose to protect only one prince,” he hissed, clenching his fists. “Was that his calling? Forsake the masses to spare his own son?”

“How long will you remain the protected? The king entrusted the role of protector to you.”

“ _Entrusted_ it to me? Then why didn’t he tell me that?” Noctis’ voice rose suddenly. “Why did he stand there smiling as I left? Why-” he all but screamed the last word before chocking. “Why did he lie to me?” he whispered.

His friends averted their eyes. The pain was too strong for all of them and it was too recent. Cor saw it, and seemed to sympathize with the young king.

“That day,” he said in a softer tone, even if his expression remained largely unchanged. “He didn’t want you to remember him as the king. In what time you had left, he wanted to be your father. He always had faith in you, that when the time came, you would ascend for the sake of your people.”

It took some time for Noctis to compose himself. Distressed as he felt, he knew there was no turning back, and it was only his unconditional trust on his father that he agreed to continue.

What he could come to terms with time was the fact that, had his father disclosed to him the true extent of what was to come, Noctis would have refused to leave the Crown City altogether. What would have happened to him or his friends no one would ever know. Gladio and Ignis would have been at his side but, what about Prompto? He lived in the residential area, and might have been one of the many casualties.

“Guess he left me no choice,” he murmured, extending his hand towards the statue.

The weapon glowed with a blinding, blue-white light before dislodging itself from the statue’s hands and hovering over their heads; then it flew, entering into Noctis’ chest like an arrow, where it disappeared. It was the sword of The Wise, the first king to have erected the Wall around Lucis.

“The power of kings goes with you, Your Majesty,” Cor proclaimed. “That’s not the only power your forebears left you. Your journey’s just begun.”

The marshal then led them outside the tomb. He told the four friends about the Royal Arms, and that there were thirteen known tombs spread throughout the world. One of them, however, was close by, and that was where he would be guiding them that day. “To get a measure of your strength,” he said.

Still, not all thirteen sources of power were accounted for, and Cor had already enlisted the help of the Hunters to comb the land in search of the lost tombs.

The place he led them to was named Keycatrich Trench, where a fierce battle against the Empire took place during the last years of the war. Lucis lost, and the imperial forces occupied the surrounding lands.

Keycatrich had been a bustling village where commerce thrived. There the rich and famous had taken residence, until the Wall had to be scaled down. In a few months the inhabitants saw their homes ravaged by the fires of war and they had to flee, going to take refuge on what would later be the Prairie Post and then, when that settlement reached full capacity, scattering through the Leide region and Duscae. Over the year event he Prairie Post emptied itself from civilians, and the only ones remaining were the Hunters who had taken them in. The only reminded of Keycatrich’s former splendor was the statue of the Funder King, Somnus, which somehow had survived the destruction and the inclemency of the weather.

As Cor had warned them, MTs were deployed at the hollow that was the Trench, but in a far smaller number than when Lucis lost the battle.

“Er,” Prompto said. “How do we get through all that?”

“Take ‘em head on, or sneak up from behind. The choice is yours.”

Cor’s answer surprised Prompto, who thought he would be scolded by the warrior.

“I’m going all out,” Noctis declared, his sword already on his hand.

“Just don’t get too carried away,” his Shield advised.

“You’re one to talk,” the other chuckled.

They fought head on. Noctis’ rage fueled his attacks, making him reckless at times, but proving to be a very effective warrior. MTs were used to fight against the glaives and their warping abilities, but Noctis, as the source of power, could use it far more frequently than the Kingsglaive, leaving the MTs all but defenseless.

It was more a skirmish than a battle, and it was over before they could break a sweat. Cor’s help let them finish it before the MTs could call for reinforcements.

“Prompto, you all right?” the marshal asked once they were finished.

“Uh, yes sir,” the young man stammered, straightening up. “I’m fine, sir.”

There were other groups of MTs that they dispatched on the small valley, as exercise and as a way to let go of some frustration. Once the path was cleared, Cor directed them to an entrance leading into the mountain. By the door there was a statue of Somnus, the Founder King. Noctis briefly looked at it, and remembered all the giant statues scattered through Insomnia.

His father had died, yet the Old Wall had been summoned. Did that mean that his father had done it before dying? He asked Cor, but he didn’t know the answer either, though he promised to gather as much information as he could.

“Here’s where we go our separate ways,” Cor told them once they were inside. He handed Noctis a small key. “Take this. It unlocks the doors to the other tombs. Seek them out, and lay claim to the power they hold. You’ll need it.”

“And what will you do?”

“Keep an eye on the Niffs. Find out what they’re up to. But you should focus on your own task.”

“I will,” Noctis afforded himself a little smile. “You take care.”

They parted ways, then. The marshal advised them to keep in contact, and to seek out the help of the Hunters when they needed it.

“Showtime,” Gladio said, stretching his broad shoulders once they were alone.

“Let’s hope it’s not a tragedy,” Ignis pointed out, adjusting his glasses.

Noctis, for his part, felt his energy returning. He had a purpose and the means to fulfill it.

The tunnel was manmade, with room enough for three men to walk abreast. Sacks of sand piled up against the walls on some broad areas, and there was an electrical installation, though out of service.

It was a shelter for those who fled the war, though during those days it was devoid of human life. In the distance, they could hear scurrying and shuffling of feet. Daemons.

They discovered the main generator in one of the bends of the tunnel. It still worked, and it came to life with a satisfying hum.

Light was a pleasant surprise, and made them forget for a few moments the stuffy, uncomfortable atmosphere of the tunnels.

They followed the tunnels slowly, letting Ignis memorize the layout and each dead end. Their cautious steps were as silent as they could, as they had agreed on talking as little as possible. That was, until they heard a metallic bang resonate around them.

“What! What was that?” Prompto jumped in fright.

“My bad,” Gladio apologized sincerely. “Kicked a can.”

“You’re killing me here, big guy! Are you trying to give me a heart attack or somethin’?”

Noctis shushed them, and saw that Gladio, apologetic as he was, smirked mischievously at him.

At the end of that tunnel the path went to the left, where the passage had collapsed on itself, and to the right, where the path was blocked by a rusted grating door. Noctis had seen something among the rubble and, when he approached to retrieve it, a rumble shook the ground, as sand from the half-collapsed ceiling rained on him.

“If it’s all the same to you guys, I’d rather not get buried alive,” came Prompto’s hushed protest from near the grating door.

“Yeah,” Ignis agreed. “Let us be quick.”

Noctis pocketed the bangle he had found. Even under the scarce light of the torchlight he could see it probably belonged to a soldier.

The grating door’s lock was opened, but when Noctis pushed it open the hinges wailed and screeched loudly, the sound filing the tunnels.

“I hate that noise!” Prompto hissed.

“What,” Gladio teased. “Too atmospheric for ya?”

The proceeded with caution, knowing that they had been announcing their presence since they stepped on the Trench.

It didn’t take long for the daemons to appear. Goblins and Imps, as they were called; they were small, deformed humanoids, very weak, but which found their strength in large numbers, and they liked ambushing their prey. They nearly overwhelmed them at one point, but Gladio’s gigantic sword swept them with ease, and Prompto’s guns took care of the ones which tried to run away.

Deep inside the tunnels, before reaching the tomb, they found a strange room: large, sticky cords hung from the ceiling and over the walls. The air was stuffy and a faint stench of rotten meat assaulted their nostrils. They could see nothing, but suddenly Gladio gave a scream and made them step backwards. And not a moment too soon, because something big fell heavily in the place they had been standing on moments before.

The daemon towered over them, almost filling the entire chamber. They could see the figure of a woman, pale and monstrous, sitting atop the body of a spider: An arachne, as Ignis informed them. Soon they understood how that monster could inhabit that place: It could squeeze through narrow cracks which looked impossible at first, to launch quick surprise attacks at its victims.

With a movement of her hands, she threw a lightning bolt at the men, making them scatter at first. They attacked her in turns, but the daemon threw a web at Prompto, immobilizing him. Noctis warped with his new sword, and found that it allowed him to close the range with his enemy at almost no cost of his magic energy, and its slash was devastating. However, as Cor had warned him, the weapon consumed his life force, and he had to quickly change to a broadsword and hack away alongside Gladio, with the help of magic fire from Ignis.

The arachne fell when Gladio stabbed it through the chest. It tried, as its last action, to claw at the man delivering the final blow, but the Shield, planting his feet on the feminine torso, used the monster as footing to yank his sword free and jump back to the ground. Screeching and clawing at the air, the daemon dissolved in a mixture of black ooze and particles, leaving behind a faint stench of burnt flesh.

Once the daemon was taken care of, and Prompto was free from the spider web, they noticed that the goblins had disappeared too. Maybe the giant spider acted as a queen to them and, once she was dead, her minions would scatter.

The ancient tomb’s door contrasted eerily with the modern architecture of the rest of the Trench. Beyond it, they found the same layout as the one Cor had met them in, up to the shape of the king’s reclining statue. Only this time the weapon wasn’t a sword, but a labris, a gigantic double axe. This weapon was the axe of The Conqueror, the king who unified the territories under the banner of Lucis in times of chaos.

“So,” Prompto said when they were making their way to the surface. “Noct borrows the old king’s power?”

“More or less,” Ignis answered. “At this rate, he’ll soon rival his father’s legacy.”

“The Copycat King,” Gladio joked.

“Out of line,” grumbled Noctis, though he was more than used to Gladio’s wordplays.

“Well, what’s it like?”

Noctis smirked at Prompto.

“Hmm…” it was difficult to describe to someone who didn’t actually use magic, except to summon their own weapons. “Like I’ve got some tricks up my sleeve.”

“No need to put on a magic show for us,” his Shield warned, knowing that Noctis liked to show off his abilities.

“But it never hurts to practice,” Ignis pointed out.

It was almost sundown when they came out of the tunnels. Noctis’ cell buzzed.

 _“Finally picked up,”_ Cor’s sighed in relief. _“Thought I’d lost another king.”_

“Just busy building my arsenal.”

Cor had discovered that the imperials had closed the gates connecting the Duscae region to Leide. The detachment was still small, but they were gathering materials to build a base there, which would prevent them from accessing the Western regions.

“What’s up?” Prompto asked when he hung up.

“People to see, Niffs asses’ to kick. Let’s go see Monica at the outpost.”

“Ain’t gonna be easy takin’ them down ourselves,” Gladio commented, though they all knew he was more than ready to try.

“Can we really do this?”

“The marshal believes we can,” Ignis reminded Prompto. “Or he wouldn’t have asked us. But first things first.”

They reached the Outpost by night, and the artificial lights were a blessed sight after the total darkness of the wild lands. After Monica briefed them in, Gladio took out the camping utensils from the car and set them up at a nearby daemon-guarding circle. Drawn with mythril runes carved on rocky, flat hills, those circles were scattered all through Eos, and offered travellers a much needed protection against the horrors of the night. It was said that any daemon foolish enough to step on the runes would burst in flames. No one had ever confirmed that myth, but it was true that no daemon ever came near those sanctuaries.

In good spirits for the first time since they woke up at the Quay, they dined and rested, saving their energy for the following day.


	15. Declaration of War

B **OOK 2: THE TALE OF THE CHOSEN KING**

**CHAPTER 3 – DECLARATION OF WAR**

Prompto woke up well before daybreak, to see that Gladio wasn’t inside the tent. As quietly as he could, he went out to see his friend already practicing with his sword and shield. How he could be so energetic, with everything that had happened to them, Prompto could only guess.

Gladio spotted him and smiled.

“Sup,” he grunted, catching his breath. “Can’t sleep?”

Prompto scratched his head, trying to not show that the morning breeze made him shiver.

“Saw your spot empty,” he said. “Thought something was up.”

“Yeah,” Gladio said, resuming his training. “ _I_ was up.”

The gunslinger chuckled weakly. Then he said something he hadn’t been brave enough to utter with their other friends listening.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “About your parents.”

Gladio stopped all of a sudden. He was giving his back to him, so Prompto couldn’t see his expression.

“They knew this could happen someday,” he grumbled. “Especially my father.”

“I mean,” Prompto stammered. He knew of his friend’s temperament, and thought he might have gotten him angry when he prodded on personal matters. “I see you so focused and so-”

“Each one takes grievin’ their own way,” Gladio said, turning his head towards his friend. He had a serious expression, but there was no anger in his eyes. “Now I understand some of the things that happened before they sent us away.”

He willed away his weapons and went to sit at the promontory’s edge. Prompto followed suit.

“I was angry at first,” the big man continued. “I wanted to be at my father’s side but, whatever happened, it had to be very big. He trained Drautos before I was old enough, and turned him into the strong bastard he was, and even he’s been killed.”

He sighed, passing a calloused hand through his hair.

“What ‘bout your folks?” he asked.

Prompto blushed and waved a hand.

“Oh, they’re all right,” he said.

He didn’t feel like sharing the uncomfortable conversation he had the previous day with his mother, while his friends gathered information at the Outpost. Prompto felt genuinely relieved to hear her again, but she didn’t seem to reciprocate the feeling. He kept talking and asking questions about where they were and if they needed anything, thinking that the coldness in her tone was just his imagination.

His mother said that both she and her husband had arrived at Altissia two days before the treaty signing. She added that, while they were happy that he was safe, they were even happier that he was now self-sufficient and didn’t need them anymore. And, without letting Prompto say another word, she announced that they had to change their phone lines and cells due to international calls regulations, and promised Prompto they would contact him with the new numbers as soon as they could. Then she hung.

He tried messaging and calling again, but the messages never arrived, and the line only gave a dead signal.

That was it. He was now an independent adult. Not that it surprised him, since they were always, at the very best, quite cold towards him, but he couldn’t help the uneasiness which had settled inside him. It wasn’t unlike them either to embark on long journeys without telling him where they were going, but the fact that his parents were in Altissia while they were stuck in Leide struck a nerve on him.

He tugged at the wristband on his right arm.

“They’re all right,” he repeated, more to convince himself than his friend. “They sailed to Altissia before the embargo and decided to settle there.”

“Nice,” Gladio commented. “We might visit ‘hem when we arrive for the wedding.”

“Yeah…”

This time, Prompto couldn’t pretend anymore and hung his head.

“Look to the bright side,” Gladio said, suddenly realizing what might have been nagging at his friend. “They’ve never been there for you anyways, and you’ve been your own man since you were little. Not many people can say that. ‘sides, you’ve got us.”

“I know,” Prompto raised his head, this time managing to crack a smile.

“C’mon,” Gladio slapped him in the back before jumping to his feet. “Time to kick some scrapehead asses. That’ll do you good.”

They woke up his other friends and, after Ignis prepared a quick breakfast and they took down the tent, they drove to the rocky wall Monica had directed them to. Half hidden behind thick bushes, a narrow crevice wound its way through the rocky wall and into enemy territory.

Monica was at the entrance and, as soon as she saw them, she issued them Cor’s plan of attack.

“From here we will split into two groups,” she said. “Prince Noctis, please join the marshal up ahead. The rest of you will assist me in the diversionary effort.”

 _“So it’s me and Cor, uh?”_ Noctis thought.

“I’ll see you guys later.”

“You give ‘em hell,” said Gladio with a smirk Noctis knew all too well. “We’ll do the same on our end.”

The narrow passage opened to the ruins of an old settlement. Half crumbled buildings and rusty metal beams was all Noctis could see ahead. Cor was waiting for him there.

The strategy was for them to push the forces out of the ruins, while support pushed them in, crushing them in the middle. Imperial forces had already installed a control post at the very entrance of the Duscae region, and from there they could control access in and out. They had to get rid of it as soon as possible.

Cor and Noctis didn’t have much problem driving the forces out, given that the post was fairly new and the number of enemy soldiers was still scarce.

For Noctis, it was an opportunity to prove himself before the marshal. Even though Gladio had been his trainer, it had been Cor the one to test him on the training room during the last years of the prince’s martial formation.

Noctis had gotten better at fighting. He knew because Cor didn’t point out any flaw on his performance. Nevertheless, the marshal chided him at one point, and warned him not to become conceited, no matter how many victories he might attain in the future.

When they came out of the ruins, they saw they stood at the other side of the Duscae door, closed by the empire. Giant containers had been aligned in wait for the soldiers to unload the cargo and start the construction of the base. The prince was sure that Cor would find good use for those materials.

They found the controls to the door, which opened slowly. Behind, they could see the tarmac strewn with fallen MTs while his friends and Monica strutted confidently pass the threshold.

Just when they were congratulating each other, a shadow passed over them: an assault craft flying at low altitude.

 _“Stay where you are!”_ the voice of a young man echoed from the ship. _“Well, well, if isn’t Cor the Immortal. So you survived the Citadel. But you won’t survive what I have in store for you. It’s past time your legend came to an end.”_

The one who made such grandiose claims was a general of the empire who went by the name of Loqi Tummelt. Born in the Niflheim empire, he harbored an intense hatred against everything that came from Lucis, and a great disdain for anyone not of Niflheim blood, which he considered far superior. The young general had accomplished many a deed during the ongoing war, and had earned many a medal for it, and he saw the war hero, Cor Leonis, as his archenemy and rightful rival from the other side.

Unfortunately for the young general, Cor Leonis had no idea who he was, and had no interest in finding out.

Nevertheless, Loqi was very confident on the prowess of his vehicle, a type MA-X Cuirass, far more powerful and resilient than the normal MAs. The assault craft opened its doors and the MA-X jumped to the ground, readying its weapons.

“What’s the plan, Ignis?” Cor asked after he ordered Monica to fall back.

“Prepare ourselves for the long haul,” the retainer grimly predicted, readying his daggers.

MT axemen had arrived on the same assault craft, and moved quickly to surround them. Before Ignis could give Noctis any instruction, the Prince had already warped towards the troopers. Ignis clicked his tongue in frustration; he understood his pain, but being so reckless would cost him his life someday.

The Cuirass fired a salvo of missiles towards Noctis, who dodged them with ease. However, a stray bullet distracted him but a second, and the last projectile exploded near, sending him tumbling to the side. He soon realized that there were snipers around them, on top of the containers and, while his friends dispatched the axemen, he warped to where their assailants stood, slaying each one of them with a single hit.

“Ignis!” he heard Cor yelling at one point. “Take the Prince and flee!”

“Yes sir!”

 _“Like hell you will,”_ Noctis thought. No one would take him away from the battlefield, not when he could at last do something.

The MA-X threw another salvo, and joined it with an electric discharge which paralyzed Prompto and Gladio. Noctis took the axe of The Conqueror and warped above the MA-X, driving it down as hard as he could while he fell to the ground. The machine stomped down, and the lightning field extended beyond its legs, reaching Noctis and Cor.

The marshal shrugged the electricity away, but Noctis didn’t have that much luck and felt how his energy was sapped away.

Ignis had been busy tending to Gladio and Prompto while Cor slashed at one of the legs. The marshal had been partly successful, and now the machine had a slight limp, but it wasn’t enough.

“Ignis,” Cor ordered. “Take care of Noct. If anything happens to me, it’s up to you.”

“Nothing’s gonna happen as long as I’m around,” Gladio bellowed as he hefted his greatsword, his wounds now fully healed.

Noctis used a potion on himself and renewed his attacks. Prompto had spotted a weak point at the base of the missile launcher and fired his own salvo of bullets. He hit some sensitive point, and the machine shuddered and fell to the ground, still not defeated, but vulnerable nonetheless.

Cor slashed at one of the legs, his katana drawing a bluish arc as he did so, while Gladio and Noct coordinated a double slash with their greatswords.

The machine recovered and started stomping around, now desperate to squash the enemies under its legs.

 _“I cannot… be defeated…”_ they heard the same voice from the young imperial coming from the MA-X’s speakers.

It was on its last legs. Now Ignis threw a lighting grenade at the cockpit and the machine crackled with electricity, its joints protesting loudly.

That was the last stretch. Noctis stepped back and saw that Cor was at his right, while Gladio stood at his left.

“All right, boys: How do you want to do this?” the marshal yelled.

“The quick way,” Gladio smirked, hefting his greatsword.

Cor slashed heavily again at the nearest leg, making it shudder, Noctis hit the joint, knocking the machine down at last, and then Gladio jumped, plunging his greatsword behind the cockpit.

Seeing that the machine had fallen for good this time, at a command from Cor they willed away their weapons and ran away. As they did so, they heard a shrill scream from the speakers: “Glory to the empire!” before the MA-X exploded.

“Impressive,” said Cor to Noctis once the smoke dissipated. His lips curled in one of his rare smiles. “Seeing you in action puts my mind at ease. It’s clear I don’t need to worry any more. I’ll return to watching the Niffs. ‘Till next time, take care.”

They said their farewells then, and Cor returned to the Leide region with Monica in tow. They knew they would hear from him again.

“Ain’t so bad out here once you get used to it,” Gladio commented.

“Still a lot we haven’t seen, though.”

“And a lot for us to do,” Ignis reminded them.

“Buck up,” Gladio said. “We’re just getting started.”

He waited beyond the doors to Duscae while Ignis went for the Regalia. He said he wanted to walk a bit, after the long days sitting in the car. That was umbecoming of him, but his friends didn’t say anything.

_“That mentality could prove your undoing, Highness.”_

Cor had said that when Noctis had boasted that he could have taken the MTs alone. He had been tempted to retort the marshal, but they were in a hurry. Then that imperial with his walking magitek armor had proven Cor’s point.

He hated to admit it, but the marshal was right. He still had a long way to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The scene at the start of the chapter never appears in game. In fact, Prompto’s parents are brushed aside as if they never existed. Just tried to give that little story arc an ending. Also, I snuck in a small Easter Egg from another fandom because I’m a hopeless nerd and I couldn’t help myself. Yes, I wrote that line totally on purpose and I regret nothing.


	16. The Gathering Storm

**BOOK 2: THE TALE OF THE CHOSEN KING  
**

**CHAPTER 4 – THE GATHERING STORM**

**At the throne room in Gralea, Niflheim’s capital.**

Emperor Iedolas held court at Zegnautus Keep in Gralea. The Keep itself was a flying structure which was normally docked at the central elevator in the city, creating a surreal image of a monstrous platform sustained by an impossibly tall and thin tower. It was there were the MT soldiers were programmed, where military research took place, and also where they had stored the Crystal in a special chamber.

The military heads had been gathered there to give their reports on the aftermath of Insomnia’s fall. Chancellor Izunia, however, had excused himself since he had some personal matters to attend to in Lucis.

Ravus, his formerly blonde hair now turned silver after his ordeal with the Ring, stood among the generals. His left arm had been substituted by a prosthetic one powered by magitek energy, which had caused his left eye to acquire a violet color. Following General Glauca’s demise, he had been promoted almost overnight to the position of High Commander.

Some voiced their protests at the promotion, for the General’s body was still unaccounted for, but Chancellor Izunia, returning from a brief trip to the ruined Insomnia to supervise the troops there, assured that they could keep on with the procedures without worry.

“The esteemed General is no more,” he had said in a grieving voice before the court, taking off his hat as a sign of respect for the dead. “May his memory always live within us.”

Research Chief Verstael Besithia stood at Ravus’ left. He was the scientist responsible for the creation of the magitek troops, and the High Commander’s arm.

Besithia wasn’t a tall man, more so in his late years, when he had also lost most of his already white hair. Despite this, he stood erect and proud, clad in the black and garnet full regalia of the army’s research branch. Famed for his brilliant intellect, he had risen amongst the military hierarchy through his studies and experiments with daemons. Always calm and composed, there was, however, an aura about him which made most people feel repulsed by the old man. There had been too many rumors of unethical experiments and complete disregard of human morality. He paid no heed to those rumors or the repulsion some people might feel towards his labor, thinking everyone else beneath him.

Behind Ravus, following protocol, stood Brigadier General Caligo Ulldor, Commander of the Niflheim occupation forces in Lucis. His meek manners with his superiors contrasted with the ruthless and cruel nature he shown to anyone under his command.

Caligo’s dark eyes looked at the back of the High Commander’s silver head in disdain and hatred. In his mind, Emperor Iedolas only added insult to injury denying him the position of High Commander a second time. It had happened with that brute Glauca the first time, more than ten years back. To this day, Caligo still felt bile rising to his throat when he thought about the late General enjoying a position which should have been rightfully his. Instead, Caligo had to resign himself to be Brigadier General, while Glauca’s armored image was featured in all the recruitment posters all through the empire.

A man who hid his past and his face was a man worthy of suspicion, and the Brigadier deduced the General to be of humble stock, although a true citizen of Niflheim, or the Emperor would never tolerate him near His Radiant Person. The Ulldor clan had connections with all the other illustrious families, all those which blood made them worthy of the high ranks, both in the army and the government, and no one in those families fitted Glauca’s description.

And now he was denied a second time. It had been bad enough receiving orders from someone Caligo believed to be a low born. Now he would have to bow before a foreigner, of all things.

However, his hatred was reciprocated this time. If Glauca had largely ignored Caligo before his disappearance, Ravus couldn’t forget the days following the imperial occupation. Bereft of their mother, the two children were left under the care of Caligo. They were kept apart, secluded in their own quarters, but some nights Ravus could sneak to her sister’s room. One night he found her crying in Gentiana’s arms. Caligo had tried hurting her in a way Luna was still too young to understand, but his brother did. Her Guardian had assured him that the Lady was only scared, and that she had intervened before anything truly grievous could happen to Lunafreya.

Behind Verstael stood Imperial Airborne Division Commodore Aranea Highwind. She knew all too well of the distaste Caligo thought of her, but she never paid any attention to that man. Having risen from the position of mercenary to where she was now hadn’t given her any conceit. She was hard-edged, free-spirited, and always insisted on people addressing her without any honorifics, never obsessing over birthright or rank. It was said that his two trustworthy henchmen, Biggs and Wedge, would follow her to their deaths if necessary. Her weapon of choice was a lance, and her specialty was ambushing her prey from the air.

“So, the prince eludes death,” said the emperor in a feeble voice. “And what of the elusive ring?”

Iedolas had always been revered as a wise and just ruler. A capable administrator by every measure, he had attained glory and power for Niflheim, and the adoration of his people for it. However, since the day the Crystal was brought to Gralea, his demeanor had changed greatly. During the fall of Insomnia he felt disgusted at the destruction the Diamond Weapons had unleashed, but saw no other option to save his own country. Now, however, he wouldn’t step outside Zegnautus Keep, leaving all the warfare and administrative duties to his subordinates. There had been worried voices among the ranks of the Imperial army, but those who coveted the emperor’s power, Caligo amongst them, shushed them down.

“Lunafreya has absconded with it,” answered Ravus.

“Find and kill her,” the emperor ordered. “The ring is the final piece.”

Ravus felt a surge of fury rising inside him. Verstael’s words, however, cut it short.

“We may do well to take her alive,” the scientist said. “The Six wield power beyond our imagination. The Oracle holds the key for the King. She could unlock many secrets, nay High Commander?”

Despite the old man’s words, Ravus didn’t make any sign of acknowledging them, nor did he feel grateful for the alternative he had offered his sister.

The calm and composed behavior of the High Commander was very different from with what had transpired mere days before at Besithia’s labs. The staff still remembered with a shudder Ravus’ screams as the artificial limb was attached, and the machines pumped magitek energy into his body. Whatever the Chief had planned for Lunafreya, it was bound to be just as unpleasant.

Only Aranea made a clear grimace of disgust, knowing full well the intentions of the Investigation Minister towards the princess.

“Lord Ravus, the imperial army is now at _your_ disposal,” Verstael continued.

“A moot point while the fugitives remain at large,” the High Commander retorted acidly, but to the emperor he said respectfully: “My men and I will continue our search for the prince and the Oracle.”

But Iedolas didn’t seem to be listening to them anymore. His eyes had become unfocussed, and he stared at the ceiling, as if in a fever dream.

“So glorious,” he kept repeating. “ _My_ Crystal…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the game, this scene is rather short, since it’s only about the emperor’s underlings reporting to him. Ardyn doesn’t appear and Glauca is not mentioned (in fact, they never do so in the whole game, much like with the Kingsglaive or the events at Insomnia, save that the empire invaded and destroyed it). Any inner thought from the characters is hinted at by meta info and scenes throughout the game. The mention about the recruitment posters is a funny extra of my own because, let’s face it, Glauca is a villain for the Lucians, but a war hero for the Niffs. I also snuck in a very, very subtle Easter Egg for one of my stories. I say this in case someone has read it and is wondering if that particular line in this chapter was written on purpose: it was.


	17. The Open World

**BOOK 2: THE TALE OF THE CHOSEN KING**

**CHAPTER 5 – THE OPEN WORLD**

**Somewhere in the road towards Duscae.**

The landscape had changed drastically from rocky, desert wild lands, to soft, green hills rolling by, only interrupted by small woods and abandoned homesteads.

“Look out world,” Prompto declared happily as he took photos of the views. “Here we come!”

Gladio sighed in relief as Ignis took down the car’s hood so they could enjoy the fresh, dust-free air.

“We can leave this dust bowl behind,” he said, stretching his broad shoulders.

“The lands beyond are vast by comparison to Leide.”

“Bigger’s better!” Prompto yelled over the noise of the wind. “More stuff to see and do!”

The first region they would cross was Duscae, known for his wetlands and wild fauna, to the south west of the road. There was also a chocobo forest, south and across a thick forest, which sparked Prompto’s already wild enthusiasm for the birds (his companions discovered with dismay that he could sing the chocobo song for very long periods of time). Further west they would reach the Cleigne region, where they could find the city of Lestallum, place of arrival for many refugees from Insomnia.

“Barring delays,” Gladio made the numbers on his head. “Iris should have arrived by now. Maybe even had herself a look at the Meteor.”

The Meteor of the Six, as was called, fell from the sky thousands of years prior, and marked the end of the war which devastated great part of the land in ancient times. It was an event which marked the end of the lost civilization of Solheim, and marked the start of the new era.

As the road turned, they could see the hills opening to the valley below. Vast natural rocky bridges crossed the land. At first sight they appeared as if they were randomly scattered, but after a while, one could see that they followed a concentric pattern as they followed the shockwaves of the fallen asteroid.

Ignis then pointed out the exact location of Meteor: They could see what appeared to be a group of dark crystal towers surrounded by another crystal formation, as if someone had frozen the sea as it crashed on the shore. That dark crystal possessed extraordinary properties, like the capability to produce heat with the pertinent procedure. It had been Lestallum the one to mine and process the crystal to produce power and light entire regions.

They stopped at a gas station to fill up the tank before the long drive to Lestallum.

“I believe we have a solid lay of the land now,” Ignis announced when they were out of the car. “The driver’s seat is yours, Noct… if you so desire.”

Noctis took the cars keys without a word. He was more than happy to drive himself, but he also knew Ignis, and didn’t want to say anything which could make his advisor take the keys back.

They went inside the shop to stock up supplies when Noctis’ cell buzzed.

 _“Um, Noct?”_ it was a young woman’s voice. Iris’ voice.

“Iris?”

 _“It’s really you!”_ she screamed in delight. _“So good to hear your voice! Everything’s fine over here. We managed to make it to Lestallum. We just settled into our new digs. So, yeah. Let me know when you’re coming so we can meet up.”_

“Yeah, will do,” he said with a smile. At least she was all right.

_“You better!”_

“Was that Iris?” Gladio inquired when Noctis hung up. “Hmph. Can’t even call her own brother.”

“In all fairness,” Ignis said. “Yours wasn’t the obituary broadcast all over Lucis.”

“What about me?” Prompto chimed in. “She said anything about me?”

Noctis was about to answer him, but Prompto got quickly distracted by a chocobo renting post. Outside Insomnia it was possible, for a small fee per day, to have your own bird mount, provided that you took care and fed the animal. Wiz Chocobo Post supplied the birds, and his owner prodded himself of keeping the species alive and popular. There had been one of those Rent-a-bird posts at Hammerhead, but the gunslinger had been told that the birds couldn’t reach that place because of the imperial blockade.

Without asking first, Prompto entered the gas station shop and asked the owner how he could rent a chocobo. He then learned that something had happened at the forest around the Post, and that the owner refused to let his birds go until it was solved. When Noctis and Gladio entered the shop after him, they could only see his friend with slumped shoulders and hung head, and the shop owner very kindly trying to explain that he just had to wait until a capable hunter took down whatever beast was causing the problem.

Just as this scene unfurled, a big sign pinned under and empty shelf caught Noctis’ attention. It read:

_Due to road closures, we are SOLD OUT of Ebony Coffee for the foreseeable future._

“Oh crap, they are out,” he gasped.

“Can’t let his see this,” Gladio murmured, referring to Ignis.

“He’d be crushed,” the prince muttered back.

Not wishing to attract Ignis’ attention towards the shop, they dragged a crestfallen Prompto out of the establishment, and Noctis went with him for a brief walk along the parking lot while Gladio assured Ignis that they had bought everything they would need.

Prompto insisted on checking on the chocobos and taking down that beast themselves. After all, they were working with the Meldacio League, right?

Noctis wasn’t so sure it worked that way, but his answer was cut short when he saw Gladio, with Ignis at his side, gazing at someone with a smirk.

“Well, if it isn’t Sania,” he said.

“Someone you know?” Noctis asked.

There was a woman at the far corner of the parking; she had installed a parasol and a table, and seemed to be poring over some books papers. All around her were frogs, croaking and jumping around. Maybe that was the reason no one approached that particular corner, despite it being the best place to take a snapshot of Meteor.

“Spoke with her just the once, back at Hammerhead.”

“Now that you mention it, you were chatting someone up,” Noctis commented, resisting the urge to ask whom Gladio hadn’t stricken a conversation with.

Gladio explained that Sania was an expert in wildlife and, since they would have to travel out of civilization, they might need her knowledge. Then he urged the prince to introduce himself.

Noctis didn’t share Gladio’s self-confidence when dealing with strangers, but his friend had a point.

Clearing his throat made the woman turn away from her work. She was dark skinned and dark haired, and her brown, keen eyes looked at him from behind thick rimmed glasses. She seemed mildly annoyed at first, until she noticed Gladio standing behind Noctis.

“Oh, it you boys,” she saluted Gladio, but then she looked at Noctis. “Wait, who’re you again? And what do you need, now?”

He stammered a barely audible “nothing”, but she picked it up and claimed that she had lost precious seconds of her work for nothing, and that they had to compensate her for that.

Sania’s manners weren’t exactly rude, but no one could have inserted a word among the barrage of orders she gave next. All Noctis knew when he walked away from that table was that he had agreed, somehow, on climbing down to the wetlands in search for red frogs.

“Well…” said Prompto. “That was overwhelming.”

“Let us hope it’ll also be edifying,” Ignis hoped as they made their way across the road to take the stairs down the Alstor Slough.

At some point, Gladio reminded him about reaching Lestallum and his sister as soon as possible.

“Well,” said Noctis. “It’s because of _your_ friend that we’ll be stuck catching frogs instead today.”

The Shield just nodded and, without a word, took point across the field.

If not for the urgency of their situation, it was a wonderful day to spend outside. The blue sky was dotted with white, cotton like clouds, and at their feet, green grass to where the eye could see. Garulas, giant woolly mammals, herded together to graze and protect themselves. The bigger ones looked warily at the travellers as they passed by, but as long as they didn’t get near the smaller ones, they didn’t seem to be aggressive.

“I was thinking,” said Prompto as they walked downhill towards the lake. “How do you think the imperials found us at the road?”

“That’s a good question,” Gladio grumbled.

“Truth be told,” said Ignis, rubbing his chin. “The Regalia is hardly a nondescript car.”

“Paint job back at Hammerhead?” Noctis offered.

He had spoken without thinking first, and had to stifle a laugh when he saw how Prompto’s face lit up.

“No way,” Gladio protested. “That’ll make us go back to Leide and we’re running late already.”

“Think of it this way,” Ignis reasoned. “It’s either a slight delay, or attracting unwanted attention over the refugees at Lestallum.”

The Shield pursed his lips and said nothing. Ignis had a point.

As they got near the Slough, they noticed a small island in the middle of the lake. Gladio was the first one to point out its strange shape, until it moved. And roared.

It was a catoblepas, a humongous, long-necked, one-eyed animal which made its home on the wetlands. It was said that its other eye could turn other creatures into stone and that, tired of his solitude, the animal swallowed the offending organ. Whichever it was the legend surrounding the beast, the four friends made a mental note not to disturb it.

“Uh, do you think Cindy could prepare things beforehand?” Prompto asked casually as he snapped pictures at the catoblepas. “I mean, shouldn’t we call her before we visit?”

Gladio rolled his eyes.

“Let him do that call,” Ignis recommended Noctis with a tired sigh.

As the three friends walked along the lake’s shore in search of the red frogs, Prompto waited anxiously for the other side to pick up. Out of the corner of his eye, Noctis kept checking on his friend’s reactions. Cindy really had a warm personality and, judging by the gunslinger’s gestures, the conversation was very friendly, yet to the point. Noctis had seen Prompto being shot down for far less, although this time he seemed to have stricken, at least, an amiable relationship.

That, or Cindy was real good at business.

“Ok,” Prompto beamed once he hung up. “Cindy says she can change the car’s paint in no time, but she’ll need some materials. Iggy, wanna lend me a hand?”

With a sigh, Ignis followed him to where a lode of suitable mineral could be. It didn’t take them too long to take out some shards of color. Seeing that the other two were still by the shore, they kept searching, and recovered some more shards, one of them with iridescent reflections, which Prompto thought about fashioning on a pendant.

Their work done, they finally approached the shore to see Noctis walking towards them with a bright smile on his face. He carried all the five frogs in a bundle made with his jacket, while Gladio, trailing behind, hauled over his shoulder a fish of considerable proportions.

“So, the frogs I remember but, what’s that?” Prompto asked, pointing at the fish.

“Oh, this,” Noctis said, still smiling. “We met a fisherman over there. He challenged me to fish something.”

“Like a kid in a toy shop,” said Gladio, shaking his head, though he was smirking. It was good to see Noctis happy again.

“Well,” Ignis crossed his arms, assessing the catch. “That will solve the supper. Tonight we get to feast. And speaking of tonight…”

The shadows were getting longer, and the animals were slowly retreating from the meadow. Only the catoblepas remained in the lake, uncaring about the setting sun.

“We better scram,” Gladio urged. “Don’t wanna get caught in the middle of nowhere.”

It was already dark when they reached their destination. Their flashlights provided some illumination, but it wasn’t enough to get their bearings on unknown terrain. It was thanks to the Meteor, which shone with a bluish light during the night, that they could keep it as reference as they rushed back to civilization. The road lights made little to dissuade the horrors of the night, though, and the potent, white lights from the gas station felt like a balm.

When they delivered the frogs to Sania, the woman barely looked at the men, fawning over the frogs instead. In a barrage of technical terms, she explained that strange mutations had emerged on several species, and that she intended to link it all to the strange phenomena surrounding the longer nights. All the chat flew over Noctis’ head, who in the end saw himself pushed away from her table with a hearty thank you, a request to work for her again in the near future, and a star pendant on his hand, which was said to ease the effects of poison.

The Prince could barely utter a word on their way to the caravan they were to rent for the night. It was then when Ignis said the woman’s full name, as if remembering it.

“Took you long enough to make the connection,” Gladio chuckled.

“Is she famous or something?” Prompto asked.

“Professor Yeagre is a renowned authority in biological research,” Ignis explained. “Her work has been published all around the world.”

“Told you it would be useful,” Gladio said to Noctis.

That night they feasted, as Ignis promised. Fish was one of Noctis’ favorite dishes, and the one he had caught had firm, yet tender meat.

With their bellies full, they had a full night sleep and the next day they headed back to Leide. Cindy was waiting for them, smiling as always. Her grandfather seemed to have warmed towards them, and gave them some words of encouragement, aside from a small tool bag for Noctis.

“Gave it to Reggie back in the day,” he said. “I was fed up of fixin’ the car so many times, and told him he could learn how to do it for a change. He did, and then he returned the tool bag. Seems fittin’ that you have it now, seeing how you drive.”

Noctis heard Gladio stifling a laugh, but he was too dumbfounded to say anything. The man had just seen them arriving, how he could judge that?

Out of curiosity, he opened the bag when Cid had gone away and, among the tools, he saw a hammer. Taking it, he saw that it had known a lot of use, and that someone had carved along the handle: _“Property of Mr. Hammerproof Thickskull.”_ Noctis reread it several times, smiling in disbelief: that was his father’s lettering, there was no doubt about it.

Cindy then showed them a list of the colors they could pick to paint the car. Their choice made, and after some pondering, they decided on spending what remained of that day hunting, and the next one they would set course for Lestallum.

At night, when they returned from their completed tasks, Noctis’ phone buzzed. It was Cor.

“Did something happen?”

_“There has been news. Someone told me you are back in Leide.”_

“What? How-?”

_“I’ve got my sources. It’s good that you are near. Head to the Prairie Post tomorrow morning.”_

Cor was a man of few words, but something in his tone made Noctis suspicious. Something really important must have happened.

They arrived at the Prairie Post the following day, before noon, to find it as bustling as always. Monica welcomed them at the door of a closed off building and instructed Noctis’ friends to remain outside.

“The marshal didn’t tell me anything either,” she said as an apology, bowing her head to Noctis. “Only that what he had to discuss had to be only with His Majesty.”

“We understand,” Ignis said, signaling the other two to follow him. “We will try gathering some intelligence in the meantime.”

When Monica ushered him in, Noctis saw himself in a small office. Maps of every region of Eos were pinned on the walls, along with posters of hunts, both undergoing and finished. At the far wall, a desk and some chairs were the only furniture. Cor was leaning on the desk, quietly talking to a man sitting on one of the chairs. Both stood at attention once they noticed Noctis, and the Prince saw that the second man walked with the help of a cane.

“That’s ok,” he said, telling him to sit down.

“Your Highness,” Cor saluted, never one for mincing words. Noctis was about to crack a joke about him calling them all of a sudden, but something in the marshal’s eyes held his tongue. “We have news from Insomnia. Please, take a seat.”

He felt a cold sweat breaking at the back of his neck. Trying to look composed, he sat down while the others remained standing.

“Your Highness,” the unknown man began slowly. He was a robust man, and his earnest face bore a grim expression. “Lady Lunafreya… the news said she was dead. She’s not. She’s fine, and she has the Ring of the Lucii.”

For a split second, Noctis felt the room spinning. Then he smiled nervously.

“You sure?” he asked, trying to master his trembling voice.

“I escorted her myself out of the City, Your Majesty,” the man said. Somehow, his words and his behavior didn’t match. Those were good news. Why did he look so down?

“This man is a member of the Kingsglaive,” Cor interrupted. “His name is Libertus Ostium. Together with a companion, they protected the Lady and saw her safely outside Insomnia.”

“Where is she now?”

“I don’t know,” the man named Libertus said. “The Lady said she had someone waiting for her. That she’d be all right.”

“Gentiana is with her now,” Cor clarified before Noctis could protest. “They have gone into hiding from the empire, but the Hunters are keeping an eye on them.”

“Can’t you do something?”

“It’s not that easy. The empire is now combing the land in search of her and watching our movements at the same time. If we were to close our circle around her, so would do the Niffs.”

Still, good news, despite everything.

Cor kept talking. Noctis learned that half the Kingsglaive had been pronounced either missing or dead, and that Cor intended to gather whatever forces remained under his command.

“He has to know, sir,” Libertus interrupted at some point. He hadn’t taken a seat since Noctis entered, despite his injured leg, and now he looked pleadingly at the marshal.

Cor held his gaze for a moment.

“All right,” he sighed, and gestured with his head for him to carry on.

As Libertus’ story unraveled, Cor went to look through the window.

Libertus told Noctis about what had happened at the Kingsglaive the days before the peace treaty signing, about the glaive feeling used and betrayed by the King, about his own weakness and how he turned his back to Lucis, working alongside revels who, in turn, were working for the empire.

“I didn’t know they were going to plant bombs, or that they were working for the empire,” he said, his blue eyes fixed on the ground. “They told me they were just going to stage a protest to stop the signing. I know that’s no excuse, but I only wanted my home back.”

He then narrated everything that had happened that fateful night. Half the account what was he knew, the other half was what Lady Lunafreya had told him. Libertus talked about the companions he thoughts of as friends killing each other; his friend, Nyx Ulric, whose faith in the late King never wavered, and who battled against General Glauca after the imperial had murdered both the King and his Shield.

“Is he alive?” Noctis asked, alarmed. He still hadn’t forgotten the first and only time he had ever seen the armored man, and the nightmares he had for years.

“He’s dead,” Cor spat, not turning around. “The empire has appointed Ravus Nox Fleuret as High Commander in his stead.”

That would mean he was in charge of seeking Luna. Would he turn against his own sister?

“Your Majesty,” Libertus said, interrupting his thoughts. “I committed a serious crime. I know I have no right to ask for it, but according to the law, You should judge me.

“I have no excuse for what I did,” he continued, looking ahead while he kept his back as straight as possible. “And I stand before you for judgment, as I should.”

“My…”

“As king you are tasked to administer justice among your subjects,” Cor said from the window.

Noctis looked at the man. He was tall and robust, and even if he stood before him at attention, the prince could see he was devastated. The man was a Galahdan, if he wasn’t wrong about the collar hanging from his neck. Noctis vaguely remembered that campaign, and how his father took everyone from that land who wished to fight against the empire. The peace treaty must have been a heavy blow, indeed. And, hadn’t he been angry at his own father just some days before because of his silence?

Cid’s words echoed in his memory. Regis got dealt a losing hand and had to run with it. His father’s reserve had a reason, even if he could only guess it. The fact remained that Noctis had been left with a power he never had any haste in acquiring, and he had to use it. Insomnia had a judicial system, yet it was the King’s duty to judge his direct subjects.

And they kept calling him “King” and “Your Majesty”, even when he had neither the Ring nor the Crystal under his custody.

He leaned back on the chair and looked at Libertus squarely in the eye. Be that as it may, he had to look the part.

“Desertion and treason are serious crimes,” he began slowly, his mind scrambling to remember the law. “In other circumstances you would have been either sentenced to life imprisonment or exiled. But you repented and saw that Lady Lunafreya was safe. A heroic act for a crime. I think we are even.”

Libertus let go of a sigh and nodded.

Cor turned around. His face hadn’t softened, but his voice did.

“I kept telling him that his actions prior to the signing bore no direct consequence in the end,” he said. To Libertus, he added: “Even if you hadn’t strayed from your path, as your friend did, you know the traitor had been already in our midst for a long time.”

“Traitor?” Noctis sat upright.

The marshal averted his gaze.

“Captain Drautos,” Libertus said. Now his voice was firmer. “He was General Glauca all along.”

Noctis remembered Drautos: A quiet man, duty-bound and always the prime example of what a soldier should be. He went through every encounter and interaction he could remember, and saw nothing suspicious. Titus Drautos was always stoic, always unshaken, and in many ways, just like Cor Leonis.

Now he understood why the marshal seemed so upset, or what passed as such in a man like him. According to his father’s stories, Drautos arrived as a young man, fleeing from the war, when Cor had already been a Crownsguard for several years. The newcomer’s raw strength and self-discipline compelled Clarus to take an interest in him and he took the young man under his wing, despite the newcomer being already an adult: young, but not a child anymore. The results were soon for everyone to see, and Drautos quickly rose in the ranks until he was put in charge of the Kingsglaive.

Insomnians never cared much about those born outside the Wall, yet Noctis remembered that Titus and Cor struck an unlikely friendship, sparring frequently at the training room, and sometimes sharing drinks in their free time, according to Gladio. That alliance was, perhaps, what kept the Crownsguard, formed entirely by insomnians, and the Kingsglaive, formed by foreigners, from clashing too often and tearing the army apart.

“How…?”

“His crimes went deeper than that,” Cor said, still not looking at him. “He turned almost half the Kingsglaive against us. He used their loyalty to him and their own homeland against us.”

“What do we do now?” Noctis asked, standing up. “I mean, how many remain loyal?”

“We don’t know. Most perished in Insomnia, both loyal and traitors.”

“I can round ‘em up,” Libertus offered. “My leg will get better soon. Then I can go lookin’ for them and bring ‘em here. Would that be ok, Your Majesty?”

“It would be a start,” Cor admitted. “We need as many soldiers as we can, and the hunters can only go so far.”

“Only… we don’t have the powers.”

“You will,” Noctis said. “Once I claim the Ring.”

That was a wild guess on his part. He was so unenthusiastic about inheriting the throne that he never bothered about learning much about his powers, aside from what he could use in combat. His closest friends could share a bit of it too, but he wasn’t still powerful enough to extend it to others.

“Do you still intend to remain a Kingsglaive?” Noctis asked Libertus.

“The oath bounds each glaive until either the King frees them from it, or death claims their lives,” said Cor. This time his blue eyes were fixed on Libertus, and Noctis felt like it was the continuation of a previous talk.

“I’ll serve as a Kingsglaive, Your Majesty,” said Libertus, who hadn’t looked back at the marshal. “If You would accept me back.”

“Did you get injured at Insomnia?” he asked.

“No, Your Majesty. It was during the last battle before the treaty signing.”

Noctis told him to sit down. Then he took a small potion out of his pocket and broke it over the injured leg.

“This should do.”

Libertus tried standing on that leg, and his face lit up with a broad smile.

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”

“What about your friend?” Noctis asked. “Is he injured too?”

But Libertus shook his head slowly.

“He used the Ring,” said Cor.

“What?”

“Not unheard of,” Cor explained. “The Ring of the Lucii can only be used by those of royal blood. Those foolish enough to stand before the Kings of Yore will see their souls claimed, or so the legend goes.”

“He did it,” Libertus said. “One moment he was injured, with two shots on the belly, and the next one he was cured and using the King’s magic again. Then he summoned the Old Wall while I took Lady Lunafreya away.”

“I have to admit,” said Cor, crossing his arms over his chest. “Your friend was something else.”

“He was.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who never played the game, Libertus and Noctis never had any direct interaction, and Liby was only included in the game’s continuity via the Comrades DLC expansion. I thought it would have been cool to give Libertus a bit of closure. Yes, I know that, according to the official sources, he came back to Galahd to wait for Nyx and came back when his friend didn’t show up, but that doesn’t add up in a region controlled by the empire and a man who still had a lame leg; looked to me as a cheap excuse to keep him away from Lucis until the Comrades’ expansion starts. So please, bear with me. Yes, I’m a neat-freak and I hate loose ends, lol.


	18. Lestallum

**BOOK 2: THE TALE OF THE CHOSEN KING**

**CHAPTER 6 –** **LESTALLUM**

The sun was high in the sky when they finally took the intersection towards Lestallum. Noctis feigned dozing at the back seat while Ignis drove. He had excused himself saying that he felt groggy, to which Gladio quipped he should try going to bed at a decent hour.

The truth was that the previous day had left him mentally exhausted. His friends had asked him about what he had been talking with Cor, but Noctis had waved his hand, said it was just “a test”, and let the subject drop.

Insomnia had fallen and the empire had occupied it. It wasn’t like him to keep things from his friends, but no tale would change those facts, or bring the dead back. The Kingsglaive had been founded by his father to protect the country and the Crown Prince. Word would inevitably spread about their treason, and their disgrace would be public as news spread through the land, no matter if every last member intended to atone for the rest of their lives. Nonetheless, it wouldn’t be him the one to help spreading the news.

They had been living behind their Wall for too many years, often neglecting those outside it. Now the roles were reversed and insomnians were now the ones without a home, traveling through the land in search for sanctuary. Noctis and his friends had the power of the Crystal, and knew themselves secure in their strength. But what of those who couldn’t fight? The Kingsglaive had depended on the King to free their homes and, when the time came, that trust was betrayed in their eyes. Then the empire had come to them with promises, false as they might have been, and they accepted them as true.

Deep in his heart, he couldn’t blame them. That man Libertus might now think that the new king was wise and benevolent, but the truth was that Noctis didn’t feel in any position to judge anyone. How could he do it? Noctis had kept himself well away from anything involving the Crown. His father could name and put a face to most of the Kingsglaive and the Crownsguard, but the Crown Prince could only name the high-ranking officers, and only because he saw them on a daily basis since he was a child. The day before his departure it had been a glaive the one to drive him home, yet he couldn’t remember any detail if asked about it, neither about the voice nor the appearance.

He was still reeling at the revelation of Drautos’ betrayal and, after his interview with Libertus, he had spent the following nights questioning whether if there had been an ounce of truth during all of Drautos’ tenure as Captain. Noctis remembered the day he said goodbye to his father, at the Palace’s stairs, and recalled with a shiver the stoic Titus Drautos smiling softly at them from a distance. Was it a façade, or was he already picturing the two of them dead?

Ignis let the Regalia’s hood down, and the prince felt the mountain air on his face. He opened his eyes to see the forest around them, and Prompto gave an excited yell when they approached the tunnel leading to Lestallum. It wasn’t entirely closed, and they could see the valley below and the Meteor through the archways to their left. The gunslinger, when several minutes of brick arcades threatened to dizzy them, yelled:

“It’s like we’re warping to another dimension!”

“Wonder where we’ll end up,” Noctis followed on the joke, trying to forget his somber musings.

It wasn’t long, however, when the sunlight greeted them again, and they could notice the stark contrast between the crisp mountain at the other side of the tunnel, and the almost sweltering heat in the city. Despite being at the far north, Lestallum enjoyed a warm climate all year round thanks to the heat from the power plant. The city itself had the exact amount of exotic elements and familiarity to make the young men feel excited about exploring its streets.

Lestallum perched at the northwest side of one of the many chasms wounding the landscape. The power plant where the Meteor shards were processed sat at the foot of the mountain range, which served as a natural parapet from the rains coming from the swamp lands of the Myrlwood at the other side of it.

Multicolored buildings lined up to their right, along the main street. The south side opened to a balcony where tourists admired the views of the Meteor, and where food stalls offered a wide variety of street specialties. To the north, several narrower streets made their way into the city itself, and they had heard of a street market where everything could be bought and sold.

Prompto was the one to spot the big cable car trailing from the power plant to the valley below, and they all made a note to hitch a trip there if they could.

They parked the Regalia at the balcony plaza. The last rays of run colored the Meteor with a pinkish tone.

“Any chance of sleeping in a nice room tonight?” Prompto asked tentatively.

“Yes, I’m certain we can secure… suitable accommodations nearby,” said Ignis.

Gladio hung up his cell.

“She’s at the Leville,” he said. “Let’s go.”

A broad street opened from the main road into the city to the north. The heat was almost overwhelming and it hit them like a slap when the car stopped. Gladio suggested, half-jokingly, that Noctis took off his shirt if the heat was too much for him.

“What, like you? No way!”

“What? Scared that we see that scrawny body of yours?”

“Hey, I’ve got muscles,” the prince protested, his cheeks reddening slightly. “You just… can’t see them.”

Vendors from the food stalls proclaimed their products as the most delicious of all Lestallum, while street musicians entertained passerby tourists and people sitting outside the cafes; the evening air was full of the spicy aroma of the skewers and the sweet sound of guitars, and the friends thought they had stepped into an entirely different country.

Another thing they noticed as they made their way to the hotel was how women dressed. Ignis told them about how the Exineris power plant only employed females, and that such was the reason why most of them wore fireproof suits on the street, after their shift had ended.

“See something you like?” Noctis prodded at Prompto, who had slowed down his pace to look at a group of said girls.

“The women here are built,” said Gladio, who was also throwing an appreciative glance at them.

The prince hadn’t noticed it until his Shield pointed it out to him. Some women wore still parts of the fireproof suits from the plant, but they were lightly clothed underneath, revealing the toned muscles one would expect on a soldier.

“Do control those pheromones, please,” Ignis said with a mild hint of annoyance. “We have pressing matters to tend to first.”

Gladio cleared his throat and kept going, while Prompto smiled sheepishly at Noctis. The prince rolled his eyes when he caught a glimpse of his friend hiding away the camera, as if he just used it.

As they made their way down the narrow cobbled streets, the ground shook violently. Noctis felt as if his head was splitting in two, his sight blurred and he thought he could see a reddish eye in front of him.

“What’s wrong?” Ignis asked with concern.

“My head just started throbbing,” Noctis mumbled, but then dismissed it and told his companions to keep going.

The Leville was the most sumptuous accommodation in the whole city. Though a bit simpler than what insomnians considered luxurious, it served just right for the tourists visiting the city. The building, though old, seemed cozy and welcoming, and the staff welcomed them warmly before ushering them in.

“Gladdy!” said a voice from up the stairs.

“Iris!”

“Look at you guys,” the girl greeted them, jumping her way down the stairs. “Holding your own out there.”

Prompto chuckled.

“What can I say? You look good.”

“All things considered. You guys staying here, right?” she asked, after nearly crushing his brother with a hug.

“That’s the plan,” Ignis said. Though he didn’t show it, he was glad that the young girl was all right.

“When you have time,” said her older brother. “We have catching up to do.”

It didn’t take too long for them to check in for the night, and even less to go to the room and relax. After a while there was a knock at the door, and they saw two individuals they knew all too well.

“Jared and Talcott!” Gladio exclaimed. “It’s good to see you.”

Jared Hester had been a retainer for the House of Amicitia for many years. His gentle demeanor and fierce determination had made him enjoy great familiarity with both the Amicitia and the Royal family. He was a man who greatly enjoyed investigating and collecting lore, especially that which formal historians tended to overlook for its mystic origins. Jared, in all accounts, could be considered an old sage, and his grandson greatly looked up to him.

“Prince Noctis!” the young boy chimed in, while making the insomnian military salute. “Iris is safe with me!”

The girl chuckled quietly behind Noctis.

“Please excuse my grandson,” Jared said with a reverence and a soft smile. “He had yet to learn his manners.”

“I like it,” said Noctis, who hated formality.

“Your Highness in very kind, but we shan’t impose.”

“A very good night to you, Your Highness,” said the child, this time bowing respectfully.

When the five friends were alone, they sat down and let Iris tell them what had happened.

“So, Iris,” Noctis began. “What was it like inside the Crown City?”

“Not pretty,” she said. Her smile had faded. “The citadel took a beating. But a lot of outlying neighborhoods made it through in one piece.”

“The empire had tactical targets in mind,” Ignis mused.

“You know,” she said to Noctis. “If there’s anything else, you can ask me.”

“Yeah, uh, thanks.”

There was a silence then. Iris kept waiting, and Gladio huffed in annoyance.

“What?” Noctis asked, completely at a loss.

“So,” she said. “About Lady Lunafreya. I kept hearing she was in town.”

The prince held his breath. So what Libertus said was true.

“Apparently she left right away,” she continued. “But at least it means she’s okay.”

“Good to hear,” he sighed in relief, smiling. “Thanks.”

Iris flashed one of her bright smiles back at him and stood up, turning back to her energetic self.

“Yeah, well. Get a good night’s rest.”

That night, after dinner, Noctis’ friends were relieved to see him laughing and following in their jokes again. A great weight had been lifted off his shoulders and it showed.

The next morning the three friends got up before Noctis and went to explore the city with Talcott. The prince saw himself with a lot of spare time on his hands. Iris took advantage of it and offered to tour him around the city, and spend some time alone with him.

The prince humored her. At fifteen, Iris was a true Amicitia, capable of fending for herself, and strong willed enough to measure her wits against her twenty six year old brother and win the match.

She showed him first the marketplace. The previous night he had just caught a glimpse of it at the far end of a narrow street as they walked to the hotel. In the morning, the smell of spice and freshly prepared food was the same, though at that hour it wasn’t as crowded.

The Partellum Market comprised many stalls in a big plaza. It was unique in all Lucis, since most of the cities had their shops inside buildings instead of selling things in the open.

Strings of garlics and peppers of many colors could be seen in some of the stalls. The aroma of spice now mingled with that of fruit and other foods Noctis had never seen before. He found out that keeping up with Iris’ enthusiasm wasn’t as difficult as he had feared; she ran to one of the shops where rolls of colorful cloths were displayed, along with many other good that he suspected served as sewing materials. Iris loved sewing and designing clothes, so it wasn’t a surprise she chose that particular spot. As much as he wanted to humor her, however, he got distracted with a nearby stall while the girl negotiated the price for the materials she wanted. Once the purchase was done, she grabbed his arm and directed him to the power plant.

The power plant laid beyond yet another chasm and connected with the city via a very resilient looking metal bridge. Security was tight, and a metal fence prevented people from entering the facility. As Ignis had told him the previous evening, only women worked there.

“As a matter of fact,” she said. “Women are the ones who do all the work in this town.”

“Sounds like your kind of place,” Noctis encouraged her. “I can see you doing well here.”

“I think so too! It’s so different from home, I was surprised at first. But I like it!”

She quickly turned away, saying that they had other things to see. But maybe it was to hide her reddening cheeks.

They went to the outlook. He could see the Regalia parked there as they passed by. No doubt Ignis had checked on the car first thing in the morning.

Beyond the parking lot there was the outlook proper. It was an ample balcony in the shape of a semicircle which let people gaze at the whole expanse of the remains of Meteor’s impact.

“Pegglar Outlook,” she announced as they arrived. “Amazing view, right?”

It was, indeed, a spectacular view. The morning sun played inside the crystal’s formation and even at that distance they could see it shinning like a jewel. He was sure Prompto had taken several pictures already.

“Y’know, Noct,” Iris said, stepping closer to him. “This almost feels like a date.”

“If it were,” he chuckled. “Your brother would kick my ass.”

“We better keep it quiet, then,” she laughed. “And besides,” she said, looking at him straight in the eye. “You already have lady Lunafreya.”

He was about to say something, but she cut him, her smile never faltering.

“The others are probably back at the hotel by now,” she said. “Let’s join them.”

When they were near the entrance, Iris spoke again.

“Haven’t had fun like this since we were kids. Thanks, Noct.”

“No sweat. I had fun too.”

To that, Iris’ smile brightened again.

“You did? I’m so happy to hear that. Anyway,” she said, hiding the bag she had been carrying all the way from the market. “The thing I bought today… it’s for you. But! It’s a surprise, so you’re gonna have to wait.”

She climbed the steps to the hotel, half-running, half-jumping, and Noctis remembered that she was a young girl of fifteen. Ever since they met she had always been like that, all smiles and jokes. Lately, however, she had added an element of what might very well be described as flirting for a brief moment, to then go back to the friendly banter.

Noctis could never be sure about which was which sometimes, but he had made a point to never stop and think about it. The main reason was that Iris was still a child; another, that Luna was the only girl he had ever cared about in that way; and the final reason, that which sent chills down his spine, was that that Iris was Gladiolus’ little sister, and only the Six knew what his Shield would do to him should he broke his oath towards Luna and started fooling around with no other than Gladio’s own flesh and blood.

He heard voices inside the hotel lobby as he slowly climbed the stairs. Whatever it was, he thought he could hear Talcott, and he sounded even more enthusiastic than normal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of internal conflict and then a breather. Wanted to delve a bit into what might have gone into Noctis’ mind after Cor and Libertus dropped that bombshell on him, and how much it would make him stop and rethink things. I always had that image of Nyx driving Noctis back at the prince’s place, and Noct being so engrossed on his cell he didn’t notice anything about the person driving him around. And yes, some musings about Iris, because her acting must have caused a bit of a reaction on him, if only one of awkwardness.


	19. The Sword in the Waterfall

**BOOK 2: THE TALE OF THE CHOSEN KING  
**

**CHAPTER 7 – THE SWORD IN THE WATERFALL**

“Hey, look who’s back!” Prompto exclaimed as soon as Noctis stepped inside the hotel lobby. “Talcott, go on and tell ‘em what you told me.”

One peculiar thing about Talcott was that he was extremely interested in legends and lore from ancient times, something quite unusual on a child of his age. It had been Jared the one to kindle a fondness for the stories of old, and the child had spent many times reading his grandfather’s diary, where the old man’s handwriting filled up page after page with just enough space for drawings of strange creatures and maps.

The young boy had learned many legends from his grandfather in this manner. One of them told of a sword which resting place lain beyond a waterfall just south of Lestallum. They all quickly surmised that it could be one of the lost tombs, and were waiting for Noctis to give his approval to the brief trip south.

Consulting the map, they saw the waterfall was south of a small resting area: Burbost Souvenir Emporium. Despite its impressive naming, the establishment consisted on a small shop, a caravan and a rent-a-bird post. Asking about the waterfall, the owner, mistaking them for simple tourists, warned them about a giant serpent prowling at the cave’s door, and asking them to be careful. Just as they thanked him and left the shop, Noctis could swear he heard the man sighing and murmuring something about “big city kids”.

The waterfall in question was named Callathein’s Plunge, and behind it hid the Greyshire Glacial Grotto. Walking south from Burbost, they reached a flight of stairs leading to the river below. The narrow path was almost concealed by overgrown bushes, but it suddenly opened up to a ford in front of them. Suddenly Gladio grabbed both Noctis and Prompto, who were walking ahead, and threw them to the left, where the terrain came down in a soft slope. Ignis followed suit before asking what the Shield had seen.

“Serpent,” he murmured.

The four friends peered cautiously over the path’s border. The bushes and rocks had blocked their view until that point but, from where they stood, they could see the ford opening below, and a gigantic serpent prowling about. It could have very easily wrapped itself around a behemoth and crushed it to death.

“What do we do now?” asked Prompto.

“I’d say we kill it,” said Ignis. “But we have to save energy for whatever awaits for us at the cave.”

“Climb the wall?” Noctis proposed.

“Too steep,” said Gladio. “And with no cover. That thing would gobble us before we knew it.”

“Ophidians are averse to ice,” Ignis pointed out. “Perhaps we could use that in our favor.”

“Wait, are you serious?” Prompto all but exclaimed. They all shushed him, but his tone didn’t become less indignant even if he lowered his voice. “That’s a giant snake!”

“We gotta get that sword,” Noctis said firmly, readying his own.

The gunslinger sighed dramatically, but summoned his guns.

“All, right, but when that thing kills us all, I’ll pester you all saying ‘ _Told ya so’_ for all eternity. I’m dead serious!”

The snake had detected them long before they emerged from their hiding place, but it didn’t attack until they stepped on the ford. It waited for them instead, its upper body flattening and forming a hood as it hissed. Then it threw itself towards them, its terrible maw wide open.

Prompto would have been the one to be attacked, but Gladio was already waiting for it and, heaving his greatsword as he sidestepped, let it fall with all his might when it rushed by, hitting it in the skull. The snake recoiled with a hiss, but it was enough of a distraction for Ignis to circle it as he readied an ice spell.

Noctis warped and struck the snake on its face as it stood almost in full height, but he had to warp back quickly as soon as he noticed the drops of venom flying around when he struck the animal. Landing some distance away on the rocky shore, a hissing sound made him look downwards: A stray droplet had fallen on his jacket’s hem and was eating away the leather.

“Gladio! Guys!” he yelled. “Watch out for the fangs! They spit acid!”

The serpent, instead of going after him, burrowed his head on the soft earth, and the long body followed suit. His friends started looking at the ground frantically searching where the monster could emerge from. Gladio gave a shout to Prompto, who climbed back the path they had come in two jumps, just in time for the snake to shoot upwards from the ground and land heavily where the gunslinger had stood moments before.

This time it went for Gladio, who raised his shield and withstood the attack. The snake recoiled again, as if vexed, and opened his maw as if to tear away the offending piece of metal, but as it was to bite, and explosion went off above it: Prompto had used one of his flares, and even on broad daylight the snake kissed and shrunk from the potent light. Noctis used the distraction to warp again, this time towards Ignis, who was preparing a spell for him. The retainer imbued the prince’s sword with ice magic and, as Gladio kept taunting it with his bright shield and Prompto didn’t stop shooting, Noctis warped towards the snake’s head and released a flurry of blows, warping away as soon as the monster tried to bite at him.

Gladio and Ignis had made their part as Noctis launched his attack, Ignis imbuing his own daggers with ice, and Gladio attacking the body without mercy. They could follow the same tactic again, but in the third try the snake burrowed again on the soil, and Noctis called his friends to take refuge on the rocks near the shore. The snake shoot upwards just outside the rocky area, and stood before them, giant fangs dripping with acid.

“I’ve got an idea,” Gladio murmured.

Before any of them could stop him, he willed away his weapons and broke into a run for the shallow water. The snake, sensing movement, threw itself towards the Shield, and when it was about to reach him, Gladio turned around, greatsword again on hand, to deliver a horizontal slash at the open maw. There was a sickening sound of bone cracking, and the friends saw the two fangs flying away as the snake recoiled with a hiss.

“Noct! Now!”

He quickly understood his plan. Taking out a magic ice grenade, he launched it with all his might towards the snake’s body, as Gladio ran away from the area. The grenade exploded, and the water surrounding the animal froze. The beast now had its body encased in ice and, as it thrashed wildly, trying to free itself, Ignis approached slowly. When it noticed the small human edging close, the snake hissed and made to attack him, but Ignis threw another ice grenade at the open mouth, which went off inside the snake. The magic explosion covered the monster’s throat on ice, inside and out. Noctis, at a signal from Ignis, warped with the Axe of the Conqueror on hand, to deliver a devastating blow

The ice cracked and, with it, the snake’s body fell lifelessly on the now thawing ice of the ford.

They sat on the shore, trying to catch their breath.

“Not bad for a warm up,” said Gladio, stretching his shoulders.

“I hate snakes…” Prompto murmured.

“Any wounded?” asked Noctis.

“Not that I see,” his retainer said, standing up and walking towards the waterfall. “We’d better make haste. Sundown will come in a few hours.”

There was a path going along the mountain wall towards the waterfall. As they approached, they saw the curtain of water covered the broad entrance to the cave they were searching for.

As soon as they entered, they felt goose bumps on their arms, but going back to the car for their coats was out of the question. Their flashlights did much to dispel the darkness, and the ice crystals covering the ceiling helped reflecting the beams of light. Even so, the atmosphere was oppressing, and their footsteps echoed uncomfortably through the cave, no matter how cautious they were.

“Little chill won’t kill ya,” said Gladio.

“Well,” Prompto commented while keeping his teeth from chattering. “Looking on the bright side… Maybe the cold keeps the daemons at bay?”

“Yeah,” said Gladio. “Because monsters like warmth.”

“Ah. Sarcasm. Hmmm… but, what if they are frozen?”

“Encased in ice,” Gladio said in an ominous voice. “Waiting for something warm to pass by…”

“And then they jump out!”

Noctis rolled his eyes at that exchange, but it was like Prompto to try and lighten up the mood whenever he was stressed out or scared.

They came to a bend in the corridor which broadened enough for the four of them to step in at the same time. The prince froze when he hears a gurgling sound coming from the ground. Three pools of black ooze had formed at his feet. He jumped back as the pools grew and rose from the ground.

“Last thing I needed,” he grumbled, summoning his sword.

Three blobs had appeared: Flans. The name scientists had given them sounded more like a practical joke than a serious attempt at classifying them. While some scientists might have found them amusing, anyone having to deal with them weren’t as fond of the viscous daemons, for they were resistant to most forms of physical damage and magic.

“And there’s our warm welcome!” Noctis heard Prompto say.

But the prince wasn’t in the mood for jokes. He swapped to the Wise sword and cleaved at them. The creatures gurgled as their viscous flesh hissed upon contact with the holy steel. Nevertheless, they were hard to kill, and it took them all they had to seem them dissolve at last in piles of black goo.

Beyond that bend the ground changed in color, and the path seemed to take a sharp turn to the left and downguards. Noctis set one foot cautiously on the new path, but he realized it was ice far too late: He was sliding down ant an increasing speed. The yells from his companions quickly got lost in the distance, though he soon reached the end of the ice slide, landing on a wide room filled with imps. Remembering Ignis’ lessons at Keykatrich Trench, he took out a pair of daggers and fended off one of them which tried to slash at his throat. His friends arrived shortly, and they made short work of the monsters.

“All good?” he asked his friends as he willed away his weapons.

“Better than good,” said Prompto, smiling. It seemed like he was growing more and more comfortable in the battlefield.

The continued through the only open passage. Now they are deeper into the cave, the ice covered the rocky wall in huge, blue-white chunks, while thick icicles hung above them.

“So much for _little chill_ ,” said Prompto through chattering teeth. His bare arms were covered entirely in goose bumps. “I got an ice cream headache… without the ice cream!”

They climbed through the narrow passage and came upon another ice slide. This time they all took it with their weapons ready, but when they landed there was no monster waiting for them.

The next room looked like a maze. The passage they now had before them went down into a small pond, with a narrow path leading up alongside the wall and above the water. Following it, it turned left above the water and to the other side, where they had to crawl their way through a narrow passage.

Noctis heard Prompto’s laugh behind him.

“Your tips just got frosted, dude!”

“Really? How’s it look?” he made to touch his hair, but quickly remembered that in that state it might crumble. The only thing he didn’t need was an improvised haircut.

The tunnel beyond the crawling space went even deeper down the cave, and they had to thread with care, so as not to slip on the patches of ice. They found another trio of flans ahead, but the previous battle had taught them some strategies and, while the daemons were hardy, they defeated them more easily this time.

Twisting and turning, their steps took them to a wide room on which the path forked in several directions, as if it was a maze. Ignis put and hand on Noctis’ shoulder and made him stop. Without a word, the retainer stepped forwards and stood there in silence, illuminating the room with his flashlight as if pondering which way wouldn’t lead them to a dead end.

Ignis signaled for a path which would lead them upwards. Following his indications, they traversed through the upper part of the cave, sometimes crouching to avoid being seen by the daemons prowling below.

Just past a bend, the path became wider, while the lower part of the cave narrowed. A tell-tale gurgling sound made them ready their weapons. Another trio of flans spawned from the ground, and this time they were accompanied by another kind of daemon. This new creature resembled a human warrior of old, but it towered above them, reaching nine feet tall, and it carried a long katana. The flans didn’t pose much trouble, but the daemonic swordsman was viciously fast and strong.

Noctis dodged a viscous member flailing at him, only for the swordsman to attack. The prince parried the first slash, but his feet slipped and he left an opening. The daemon saw it and thrust his blade forward, stabbing Noctis on his left shoulder and heaving him from the ground. Gladio hefted his greatsword and cleaved at the extended arm, the movement set Noctis free, but he fell to the ground heavily and couldn’t move. The katana had gone through muscle and bone, breaking the shoulder blade. The prince tried scrambling to his feet, but the cave swayed before him. Through his blurring sight he saw Gladio dueling with the daemon. Even his Shield had trouble keeping up with the swordsman.

He felt a hand on his right shoulder, and thought he heard Ignis’ voice. The cracking sound of a breaking potion preceded the warmth sensation overflowing his body. He got up clenching his teeth with fury, the sword of the Wise on his hands. The daemon had been weakened already, and Noctis cleaved at the giant body with all his might. Ignis followed suit while Prompto covered them. The prince had to swap to his own blade as soon as he noticed his strength being sapped away by the relic.

When the swordsman finally dissolved on a puddle of black miasma and they cured their wounds, they sat briefly to rest their muscles. The deeper they went, the stronger the daemons became.

“Is it just me or is it getting harder to see?” asked Prompto all of a sudden.

It was true. There was something in the air which seemed to dim the light and prevent the ice and snow to reflect it.

The kept going, more cautiously than ever and, after sliding their way along a cornice over a deep plunge, they reached a snow-covered room. At the far end, two passages led to the left and to the right. Slowly edging their way to the passages, Gladio, who walked ahead, looked back and smiled at Noctis.

“Hey! Knock, knock,” he said.

“We’re here,” sighed Ignis. “Finally.”

A cloud of black and red smoke formed suddenly, blocking the passage.

“Can’t it ever be easy?” Gladio grumbled.

“Never,” said Noctis, already slashing at the imps which had jumped at them from the ceiling.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Ignis added, readying his dagger.

The black cloud swirled and solidified, forming the body of a daemon. From these species, only the long arms and hands could be considered humanoid. The heard were that of a squid, and what appeared as long robes covering the tentacles, was nothing but the membranes joining them. The appendages weren’t used to walk, for the daemon used magic to float and glide over the ground.

The four friends didn’t have much time to analyze the creature while fending off the imps, but they did have time to fight it once the lesser daemons were dealt with. It was very strong, but not stronger than the swordsman, and their combined forces could defeat the monster, although not without difficulty.

“Does this mean we can go back outside?” Prompto asked eagerly.

Behind the metal door there was a chamber identical to the previous ones, only the figure held a double sword.

Three weapons so far out of thirteen.

When they got out of the cave it was almost night time. They could have made the travel back to Lestallum before the daemons came out, but they were too worn out and decided to rent the caravan at the Emporium after calling Iris. Noctis suffered another headache as they climbed down to the ford. This time the image of the red eye mingled with that of the Meteor.

“A hole in the ground…” he murmured when his companions asked him if he was okay. “Something burning… The Meteor?”

“You saw the Disc of Cauthess?” Ignis inquired in wonder.

That night Noctis had restless dreams, but couldn’t remember them when waking up. Ignis woke them up very early and they made their way to Lestallum.

On their way to the hotel, where Jared, Talcott and Iris waited for them, another headache hit Noctis, this time it made him almost falter and fall on his knees: He saw a gigantic humanoid figure holding something on his back. This time the pain didn’t recede completely.

“We oughta take a closer look at this so-called _Disk_ ,” said Gladio.

“No substitute for being on site, but it would be a start. Let’s see what we can glean of Noct’s condition.”

After spending a few minutes talking to their friends and showing little Talcott the sword, the friends went to the outlook, where tourists were already gathering. Despite the crowd, the viewers were all free. Save one.

There was a lone man gazing at the Disk from there. They all stopped dead on their tracks when they recognized the ruffled reddish hair and the dark coat, so outlandish in the oppressive heat of Lestallum. He turned suddenly, as if he had heard them approaching, or as if he had been waiting for them. The high collar only let them see the upper part of his face, and Noctis felt an unpleasant sensation when he realized that his green-amber eyes were smiling at him.

“What a coincidence,” he saluted jovially, waving his hand.

“I’m not so sure it is,” Gladio grumbled.

“Aren’t nursery rhymes curious things?” said the man, impervious to Gladio’s murderous glance. The man didn’t take his eyes off the prince for a second. “Like this one: From the deep, the Archaean calls, yet on deaf ears, the god’s tongue falls, The King made to kneel, in pain, he crawls.”

“So, how do we keep him on his feet?” Prompto asked, quickly catching on the meaning of the poem.

“You need only heed the call,” the man strolled past them. “Visit the Archaean and hear his plea.”

He then turned to them rather dramatically.

“I can take you,” he said.

The four friends held a brief council. In hushed voices they discussed whether if they should trust that individual.

“We take a ride…” said Prompto.

“… but watch our backs,” Gladio finished.

“Fair enough,” Ignis conceded.

The man was observing them form a distance. Far from showing annoyance at their open distrust, he smiled broadly as he saw them discussing.

“I’m not one to stand on ceremony,” he said when the friends agreed to go with him. “But such an occasion calls for an introduction. Please, call me Ardyn. Come with me to the car park. That’s where I left my automobile. She’s a dear old thing. Pales next to your Regalia, but she’s never let me down. So we take two vehicles… a convoy of shorts. Shall we?”

Ardyn’s car, though a very old model, was kept in pristine conditions. He had parked it near the Regalia, and the boys couldn’t help but wonder if their car did stand out so much. And, how did Ardyn recognize it, paint job and all?

“Allow me to do the honor of assigning your driver,” Ardyn said to Noctis. He pointed straight at him. “I chose you.”

“Fine by me,” Noctis sighed, eager to be done with whatever that man had in mind.

“You drive your car, and I drive mine. With that decided, let us be off.”


	20. Living Legend

**BOOK 2: THE TALE OF THE CHOSEN KING  
**

**CHAPTER 8 – LIVING LEGEND**

They drove outside the city and outside the mountain tunnels. While they waited at one intersection, Ardyn lined his car with theirs.

“Just to be clear,” he instructed Noctis. “This isn’t a race, it is a chase. You’re not to pass me. Lose sight of me, and you’ll lose your way. And no tailgating. An accident would spoil the trip.”

“Alright, alright,” the prince waved his hand. “Let’s hit the road already.”

“As you wish,” the other smiled, starting his car again. “Drive safely, now.”

Letting some distance granted them some privacy, at long last.

“First Galdin,” Prompto mused. “And then Lestallum… What a coincidence, uh?”

“Way too convenient to be a coincidence,” the Shield grumbled, voicing everyone’s thoughts. “I reckon he’s following us around.”

“But to what end?” Ignis rubbed his chin. “That question bothers me deeply, as does his origin.”

“It’s hard for me to picture that guy in the empire.”

“But it’s even harder to imagine him as a Lucian,” Gladio retorted to Prompto.

“I’d sooner not rely on him.”

“But he might be our only way into the Disc of Cauthess.”

“What’s His Highness’s opinion of this _Ardyn_?” Gladio asked. Noctis hadn’t said a word since they started the trip.

“Don’t really have one,” he sighed. “He’s nothing more than a creepy old dude to me.”

The gunslinger chuckled.

“You hit the nail on the head right there.”

“Well, that’s why we came up with a plan,” declared Gladio.

“Gotta _watch our backs_ the whole way,” Noctis repeated.

The landscape changed slowly. They had left behind the coniferous forests of the mountains and now they traversed the green plains of Duscae. It was a magnificent midday, with the sky of a bright blue, with some sparse clouds crossing it. Herds of garulas and other herbivores grazed contentedly and the traffic on the road was scarce. However, Noctis didn’t seem to be enjoying himself, despite being behind the wheel.

“Noct, how are the headaches?” he heard Ignis’ concerned voice behind him.

“Fine for now, but they come without warning.”

“Wouldn’t want to have one behind the wheel.”

“Stop if you need to, alright?” Prompto piped up after Gladio’s warning.

It was near noon and they were driving under some of the stone arches they had seen in the distance.

“So,” said Gladio. “Any havens along the way?”

“Oh, somebody wants to camp. Somebody else wants a proper bed.”

“Nice firm ground’s much better for you back,” he retorted to Prompto’s remark.

“Can’t we at least make it a caravan?” the blond kept protesting. “I don’t get why you like camping so much…”

“Under the stars, at one with nature… what’s not to like? Out in the wild, there’re no rules to follow, no checkout time.”

“I daresay you had Noct with _no checkout time_ ,” Ignis said.

“I’m all for extra sleep.”

“Not sayin’ it’s easy,” said Gladio. “But I envy the Hunters. Wish I could live like that.”

“That makes one of us, big guy,” said Prompto.

A few minutes later, as if answering to Prompto’s pleas, they saw Ardyn take a detour towards a gas station and rest area along the way, with a caravan to spend the night in.

“What say we call it a day here?” the man proposed when they parked next to his car.

“ _What say_ we continued on to Cauthess?” Gladio mocked him.

“The Archaean’s not going anywhere.”

“Neither are we,” Ignis protested. “Under your stewardship.”

“So we make camp… _with Ardyn_ ,” Prompto murmured to Noctis.

“Hell no.”

But Gladio seemed to be resigned.

“Might as well get the tent up,” he sighed.

“Oh, I’m afraid I’ve never really been one for the outdoors,” Ardyn said. “I shall foot the bill, so let us stay at the caravan over yonder.”

Nightfall came and they spent the evening as usual. Except for Ignis, who watched silently the others talking. At first, Gladio had felt especially frustrated that his silent threatening didn’t have any effect on that man, so he changed his strategy and resorted to try and coax any information he could out of him through friendly banter.

Ignis, who outright refused to engage Ardyn, could surmise several things through his observing: Ardyn was, indeed, uncanny (this time focusing his unwanted attentions on Prompto, of all people); he knew it and he _enjoyed_ it. His conversation, however, was fluent; he was well spoken, albeit too flamboyantly, and, most importantly, none of them could actually _read_ him. They could see his gestures and listen to his voice, but they were unable to catch a single hint of what he really was, or what intentions could he actually harbor.

Both Gladio and Ignis agreed to keep vigil that night, telling neither Noct nor Prompto. They expected that man to pull a knife in the middle of the night, but Ardyn did nothing of the sort: He slept peacefully on his bunk and got up before the first rays of light.

The next morning, as Noctis walked outside, he overheard a radio with the news. They were remembering the day Lady Lunafreya ascended to the title of Oracle, being the youngest Oracle to do so in the History of mankind. She had been interviewed that day, and she had promised to never rest until those who suffered knew solace. The next audio clip was that of Luna, now an adult, sending a message to people, that if they knew of anyone who were bedridden or unable to come to her, that they had to pray and she would come to their side.

“I hope she’s okay,” said one man from the group gathered around the radio. “Wherever she’s headed.”

Luna had spent her life as an Oracle receiving the ailing in Tenebrae and, whenever those inflicted with the Starscourge couldn’t reach her, she would travel there (always with an imperial escort). Her only concern was that, being the only one who could fulfill that task, couldn’t reach as many people as needed, and that the blessing sometimes took days to fully cleanse the body.

It was her humble demeanor, despite being a princess, what garnered her the love of the populace, and the fact that she was the only one who could combat the Starscourge. That was enough reason for the empire not to harm her and keep her as a valuable asset to keep the masses from revolting.

“We shoulda done more,” another man said. “Like takin’ her in.”

“Damn right,” said a third. “She coulda bunked at my place.”

“Or mine. I’m sure the missus would understand.”

So, Lunafreya had been there! They might cross paths, after all.

“Don’t think being married will give you excuse not to work out,” Gladio warned him.

“That came out of nowhere.”

Ignis and Prompto joined Gladio, each one cracking their own brand of joke at how lazy Noctis sometimes was, and that people might say that Luna could have done so much better. But that was how his friends were, and the prince simply scratched his head in embarrassment.

They went inside the gas station store to stock up their supplies.

“Good morning to you!” Ardyn saluted in a tone which made Noctis cringe. “I should warn you,” the man continued. “We’re about to pass the point of no return. I trust you’re not having any second thoughts?”

He didn’t. He needed to visit the Archaean as soon as possible and search an answer for his headaches and his visions.

Once his friends finished shopping, they all hopped in their cars and resumed the travel.

“Whoever thought of tapping into the Meteor’s power was a genius,” Gladio commented as they made their way slowly into the plains leading to the Disk of Cauthess.

“Can you even go near that thing?” Prompto busied himself trying to find a good angle for his pictures.

“They harvest fragments found nearby,” Ignis explained. “Pieces that broke off when the meteor fell. Almost fell, I should say, for the Archaean caught it.”

“And he’s still there, holding up the thing.”

“Guess he never misses leg day,” Noctis joked.

“His unceasing toil and the Meteor’s might form the tenets of worship for the locals of Duscae.”

“Makes you wonder what it’s like there at his feet,” Gladio rubbed his chin.

The landscape kept changing. If the previous day they had traversed through grass plains, now it was turning rougher as the greenery couldn’t withstand the heat of the Meteor.

“So, you know,” Ignis asked Prompto, noticing the change in vegetation. “It’s hot where we’re going. Will the camera fare alright?”

“As long as I avoid open flames, it should be okay. I think.”

“We don’t have a spare if it breaks,” Gladio reminded him.

“Leave it in the car?” Noctis offered.

“Oh no, I’m taking it. Not every day you get close and personal with the Archaean. I’d kick myself if I missed the photo op.”

“Spoken like a true photographer,” Gladio chuckled.

“As they say: _Better to try and fail than never to try at all._ ”

“Look at you,” Noctis smiled.

“Well, _they_ say that, not me,” said Prompto, feeling his cheeks reddening.

“Well, you just do what you gotta.”

“Hey, Iggy. Can your glasses take the heat?”

“Well, I don’t see why they shouldn’t.”

“Even if they couldn’t, he’d still be alright,” said Noctis.

“Yeah, Iggy’s eyes ain’t that bad.”

“Oh, really?”

“My vision is passable without corrective lenses.”

“Then why not take ‘em off sometimes?”

“Well…”

“You don’t get it, huh?” Noctis said.

“Ignis likes his world to be crystal clear,” Gladio pointed out.

“Indeed. I’ve never been one for ambiguity.”

“Ah, I think I’m getting the picture now.”

Now they were traversing through the ripples of the shockwave. It was a surreal landscape where the rock had melted due to the heat of the impact, to then solidify. The road had been well maintained, both to keep the transport of the Meteor shards and to allow tourists to visit the place. They would have to go, however, past the point where people were normally allowed for security reasons.

“Hey Ignis,” Prompto said. “How’s it feel being away from the wheel?”

“Positively frightening.”

“What’re you saying?” the prince protested.

“That I’m no stranger to His Highness’s driving habits.”

“’Preciate the confidence.”

“Read a book,” Gladio advised. “It’ll take your mind off it.”

“I’d rather keep my eyes on the road for now, thank you.”

“I guess nothing can take your mind off Noct’s driving,” Prompto chuckled.

Noctis was about to say something, but he noticed a manmade wall at a distance, with a heavy door closed shut. Ardyn had parked at one side of the road, as if making room for them, and seemed to be waiting.

“We have arrived,” he yelled at them when they came near.

“Better not be a setup,” Noctis said when they rode at his side.

“You don’t really inspire confidence,” Prompto pointed out.

“Yeah, not very straightforward,” Gladio hammered his friend’s argument.

But Ardyn didn’t seem to be listening to them anymore. He stood up on his car and started flailing his arms towards the upper part of the door.

“Hello!” he yelled. “It’s me! Be so kind as to open up!”

And the door opened up.

“Wow, that worked?” Prompto couldn’t keep his surprise.

“I might not look like much,” Ardyn told them. “But I do have some influence. Aren’t you glad we came together? Your audience with divinity lies ahead.”

“You’re leaving?”

“I drop you at the Archaean’s open door, and with that, bid you farewell.”

Not wishing to discuss any further, Noctis stepped on the gas, leaving the door and that man behind.

There were empty assault crafts beyond the door. No doubt they couldn’t have crossed without that man’s help, but no one wanted to admit it.

Inside the crater the rock formations turned wild, a result of the rock turning to lava when the Meteor was about to crash, and then cooling suddenly.

“I’ve met some weirdos,” Gladio sighed in relief, when they had put some distance between them and the door, and Noctis had made sure he wasn’t following.

“I hope we never meet that one again,” Ignis mimicked his friend.

“Whoa! Little harsh there, don’t you think?” Prompto, always slow to think ill of others, said. “Guy really knew his stuff about nursery rhymes.”

“Yeah, nothing creepy about that,” Noctis pointed out with sarcasm.

The road spiraled down until it ended suddenly at a natural wall. To the right, a narrow passage opened, with remains of manmade flooring and arcades at times, but mostly with bare rock and dry trees.

The passage opened at one point and the flooring kept going, along with the arcades, which now looked like the bare ribs of some colossal beast. Following the strange path led them to a sort of balcony which overlooked the Meteor and Titan. At the far end of said balcony, precariously suspended among the falling rock, was a tomb. The weapon this time was a double-handed sword, the weapon of the Founder King himself.

When Noctis had absorbed its power, another earthquake shook the ground. Noctis made to run away from the crumbling edge, but a very strong headache hit him and left him powerless. Under their feet they could hear the booming voice of the Archaean, adding to the rumble of the tremors.

The ground under Noctis’ feet disintegrated and sent him tumbling down a rocky slope; he landed on a narrow path and tumbled over it. Just when his hands were scrambling to find any grabbing, Gladio appeared and firmly took his arm. The bigger man had thrown himself after the prince and now, after helping him climb back to solid ground, the two men were stuck.

Another tremor shook the ground, and an explosion went off. They saw the gigantic mass of rock that was Meteor rise, and under it was a humanoid creature, holding it over his massive shoulders.

Titan had awakened.

Flashes of reddish light shone around the Archaean’s body, as the outer skin cracked with his movements, exposing the magma inside.

His voice boomed again, his red eyes fixed on Noctis. But he spoke in a language he had never heard.

Noctis struggled to his feet, his head still throbbing.

“Noct!” he heard Prompto’s voice over their heads. “You okay?”

“Thank heavens you’re safe,” Ignis bellowed. “Is there a way back up?”

They looked up to see their friends a long way up, with no means of climbing up the smooth slope.

“There’s a path,” Noctis responded. “Gonna see where it leads.”

“You two try to get down!” Gladio instructed them.

“What? We’re going WHERE?” they heard Prompto yelling as Ignis disappeared from their view.

Noctis and Gladio took the path which opened to their right and went deeper into the mountain.

“Don’t rush off on your own, huh?” said Gladio.

“Don’t get left behind,” the other quipped.

“Wise guy.”

The natural corridor they traversed was shaped like a natural gallery with an open ceiling. Here the rock was darker, and patches of fire burnt here and there. The animals which inhabited the place were naturally resistant to fire and high temperatures, forming, over the millennia, their own ecosystem.

A flock of birds flew over them, squawking loudly.

“They’re on edge,” Gladio commented as they saw them pass by. “Let’s not ruffle their feathers any more.”

“Um, try shutting your beak.”

“Just offering sound advice.”

“Yeah, like a parrot in my ear.”

The way wasn’t an easy one. They had to jump over crevices and slide with their backs to the wall across narrow natural cornices, with a deep fall below their feet. None of them were happy about it, but Noctis made sure to voice every little complain. Gladio had a short fuse, but he knew that many of such protests had their origin on Noctis’ headaches. However, he also reached his limit, and he grabbed the prince’s collar.

“Are you a man of royal blood or aren’t you?” he grumbled.

“Of course I am,” the prince said, shaking himself free from his friend’s grasp. “I couldn’t forget if I tried. What about it?”

“I ain’t saying that you’ve forgotten, but you gotta know something: You’re not the only one who’s having a tough time. We’re all on edge.”

He took air, and seemed to calm down a bit.

“We Amicitia are the king’s sworn Shields. Guard the king with our lives, that’s the way it’s always been. I’ve embraced my duty. And I take pride in it. When you can’t focus, I focus for you, It’s my job, so let me do it, alright?”

Noctis looked at his friend in the face. It wasn’t rare that Gladio would scold him, and with time he had come to learn that his mentor meant well.

Clarus then came to his mind.

The prince nodded, and from that moment on it was Gladio the one to take point.

“Hey, Gladio. Your dad… I’m grateful to him.”

“Just doing his job,” the other murmured.

He was yet to say anything about any detail of Clarus’ death. For the sake of his friend and, especially, for the sake of Iris. Yet, one of the things that Noctis found very strange about the Amicitia siblings was that they hadn’t shed a single tear for the former Shield. Gladio, he could understand, since he had other ways to deal with his pain, but Iris…

Ignis had solved that riddle for him: Clarus had always kept his distance from his children and always made sure that they both could fend for themselves from a very young age.

Could he have known what would happen to him in the end?

The buzzing from his phone interrupted his musings. It was Ignis to inform him that imperial troops were getting closer.

Just at that moment they heard the ominous sound of the assault crafts flying by and stopping at a distance, to let the troops fall to the ground.

A small platoon was stationed at the end of the trail, as if waiting for them. It was a natural platform presided by Titan. The Archaean gazed in silence as the two men dispatched their enemies, and it was when Noctis yelled at him that he moved.

He spoke with his booming voice, each word piercing Noctis’ head. The prince kept demanding the Astral to stop messing which his head and asked him what he wanted. Titan’s answer was to fling his left fist at him and send him flying at a platform below, where he tried to stomp on him. Noctis invoked the newly acquired sword in a desperate effort to parry the gigantic feet looming over him. It worked once, twice, but the third time Gladio tackled him and dragged him to a path leading up.

Titan didn’t seem willing to let them go, and they had to dodge his fist punching the mountain trail as they ascended to a platform which could give them an advantage.

Through speed and his warping ability, Noctis could keep up with Gladio, but the bigger man stayed behind to keep Titan’s hand from sweeping them both. Gladio invoked his giant sword and his shield and resisted the giant hand’s impact.

“Hurry!” he screamed with effort. “I can’t keep this up!”

Noctis warped to another platform, where he hoped he wouldn’t be so much at a disadvantage.

Titan noticed him right away, leaving Gladio and focusing on the prince. The Astral drew his left arm over his right shoulder, gaining momentum to swat at him, but Noctis was waiting for him already, sword in hand.

The prince parried Titan’s attacks. It was easy enough to see him coming, but he felt his arms and shoulders hurt with each strike as if he was hitting a concrete wall. When the Astral was aiming for another punch, Noctis counterattacked and warped to the giant fist. Strangely enough, the sword form his ancestor sunk to the crossguard, and Titan’s strength seemed to fail at that moment. The Astral shook the hand, making Noctis free-falling to the ground, and his voice rumbled again inside the crater.

“I’m not gonna take any more of this crap!” the prince growled.

This time the hand came down wide open to squash him, and he parried it again. The sword seemed to cause a debilitating effect on the giant, for he lost balance and had to lean with his left arm on the platform. Noctis took advantage and started attacking the extremity until Titan lifted it.

It was a long and hard fight, and took most of Noctis’ abilities just to parry and dodge the giant arm, all the while feeling somewhat fortunate that the other arm was busy holding Meteor. When he thought his strength might fail him, he heard a gunshot. Ignis and Prompto ran to his side.

“Did you miss us?” asked the gunslinger.

“Apologies,” was the only thing Ignis could manage as the three of them dodged the hand.

They continued their assault, but this time they had to also fend the MTs attacking Titan and them.

Gladio joined them some minutes later. By that time Ignis had already analyzed their enemy and told Noctis that Titan would be likely to be vulnerable to ice magic. He promptly handed out magic grenades that the prince had prepared days before and, when the Astral seemed weak enough, at his signal the four attacked with ice magic, causing the arm to freeze solid.

Before Titan could move it, Noctis lunged with his sword and cleaved at it with all his might, shattering the rock and breaking the arm.

The Archaean fell, apparently defeated. His voice rumbled again as he stood up, towering over them.

“He’s winding up!” Prompto warned.

Strange particles of light shone, traveling around Titan as he let go a deafening roar, and those particles went to Noctis, surrounding and eventually enveloping him. With a final, agonizing pang in his head, he had a vision:

Titan towered over a lone woman who stood on the same platform as them. The woman seemed made of light, in contrast with the dark rocks around her. She bowed her golden head humbly before the Astral, asking for his blessing.

It was Luna.

Noctis opened his eyes, and saw Titan shining with a golden light until a flash of light engulfed him and Meteor. They heard the assault crafts from the empire exploding and crashing around them and the MT around being disabled.

The ground shook even more violently now, the crater turned into an active volcano now. They ran, seeking an exit, but all the pathways had collapsed and they had no means to climb the crumbling walls.

“Doesn’t get much worse than this,” Gladio dodged an exploding gust of lava.

They were being surrounded by fire, with no way out.

A gust of wind made them cover their faces. An assault craft was landing near them. Fully expecting MTs to pour out of the opening doors, they stared befouled at the single figure saluting them from inside as he held onto his black hat.

“Fancy meeting you here!” Ardyn screamed over the noise of the roaring fires. “It occurs to me I never formally introduced myself. Izunia. Ardyn Izunia.”

“Imperial Chancellor Izunia?” Ignis finally recognized the name, having read it in the numerous reports from the empire.

“At your service. And more importantly, to your aid.”

Seeing the young men suddenly growing pale, Ardyn smiled.

“I guarantee you safe passage,” he tried to appease them. “Though you’re always welcome to take your chances down there. Buried among the rubble, is it?”

“Dying here is not an option,” Ignis told the prince. “We have no choice, Noct.”

“I know.”

They begrudgingly got into the craft, where Chancellor Izunia was waiting for them.

“Oh, thank the gods I found you boys,” the man said when they had entered and he had given the order to take off.

“And what will you do with us now?” Ignis asked.

“Why, grant you safe passage, just as I said.”

“Pretty generous offer for an imperial,” Prompto remarked bitingly.

“Come now. Is it fair to begrudge a man the circumstances of his birth?”

“Well, no, I guess not…” the gunslinger stammered.

The ship flew smoothly. They noticed several changes in direction but, not having an idea of which way they were facing when they boarded, they couldn’t know where they were headed.

“So,” said Gladio when they held a council. “What do we do after he drops us off?”

“Go get the car,” Noctis stated.

“Can’t leave her unattended for long,” Ignis murmured.

They all knew that the Regalia had a special feature which let her find her owner. They all hoped that, once they were on firm ground, the car would be able to find them, although they all feared the Regalia had fallen in the hands of the empire.

“Chancellor,” said Ignis, plating himself in front of Ardyn. “If you wish to aid us in our effort, then I request you release us this instant.”

“This instant? It’s a long way down. Perhaps the army could break your fall. Or perhaps you could simply sit back and enjoy the ride. You needn’t worry: you’re in good hands with me.”

Against Ignis’ better judgment, he kept silent. He hated to admit it, but the Chancellor was right. So the four friends sat back and waited for the ship to arrive at wherever their destination would be.

Hours later they landed on a forest clearing. Chocobos could be heard nearby, and they saw that Ardyn had taken to the famous Wiz Chocobo Post, to Prompto’s delight.

“Here’s hoping you find that car of yours!” he said as goodbye.


	21. "Deadeye"

**BOOK 2: THE TALE OF THE CHOSEN KING  
**

**CHAPTER 9 – “DEADEYE”**

While they waited for the car to turn up, they decided to spend the time at the Wiz Chocobo Post. It was a good hideout, in the middle of the forest, and away from the main trading routes. They had nowhere to go for the foreseeable time, and thus they rented the caravan at the Post. The Regalia would turn up, they were sure of it. However, Prompto was the first one to voice what they were all thinking, but didn’t want to say aloud.

“What if the empire has her?”

“We cannot discount the possibility,” said Ignis while he served supper.

“Then we should be lookin’ for her,” Gladio declared.

“First we need a lead,” Ignis remembered him. “We have no means of transportation, and we can’t embark on a goose chase all over the region.”

“We could go on chocobo,” Noctis offered.

There was a muffled yelp of joy coming from Prompto, but he immediately mastered his face to look as serious and concerned as he should.

“There’s the matter of the behemoth,” Gladio remembered him, though the glint in his eyes made clear that he was more than ready to take on that hunt.

“We can’t sit here forever,” Noctis protested. “Besides, it would be more money in our pocket and more strength for us.”

“I say we sleep over it and decide with the first rays of light,” said Ignis.

The next morning brought no news about the car, and after a quick breakfast they talked to Wiz, the Ranch owner, about his problem.

A behemoth had taken residence at the northern forest, the Nebulawood, and fed on the surrounding farms’ livestock. The chocobos, one of its natural preys, were simply terrified, and refused to leave the premises to service those who wanted to rent their services. Some hunters had tried taking care of the problem attacking it with fire, but those who got out alive were now either badly injured or crippled, and spoke of a beast too vicious to be natural.

Taking the narrow dirt road, it wound its way into a rocky formation, as if a small hill had been torn in two.

“Way too silent,” Gladio warned them in a low voice. He had made them walk slowly, and kept looking everywhere as they advanced.

When they stepped between the rocks, a rumbling roar echoed ahead. They heard the unmistakable cracking of wood being torn as they saw a tree being felled at a distance. The few birds which had been chirping grew silent, and they truly fell as if they had stepped into the behemoth’s territory.

They kept walking to see a detour to their right and the fallen tree. Something had torn it from the ground. Following the narrow patch led them to a narrowing. Gladio made a signal and pointed at the ground, where the behemoth’s footprints were clear as day in the soft turf.

Another roar, and two trees fell in the distance. Gladio told them in a low voice that such behavior wasn’t normal. Behemoths were terrible beasts, but this one relished on wanton destruction.

They kept walking along the path, which twisted and turned into a natural labyrinth, and soon a thick fog didn’t let them see further than their arms’ reach.

“I suppose this is where the Nebulawood take its name from,” Ignis commented.

They reached a manmade wall. An old Lucian armory, said Ignis.

There was a small tunnel going through said wall which would force them to crawl through it. Readying himself, Noctis was about to enter when another roar resonated through the wood. Gladio quickly stepped before him, and made gestures to let him go first. When he was some paces inside the tunnel, he signaled Noctis to follow him.

It quickly opened to another small tunnel, if it could be called like that. A tin roof had fallen at an angle over the wall running down to their left, leaving enough space for them to crawl. Many of the metal sheets at their right were missing, and the few remaining ones were kept in place by overgrown vines.

Gladio raised his hand again and slid behind one of the metal tiles. Just in time for something to block the sunlight.

Noctis noticed the pungent stench of the beast first. Gladio pushed him against the metal, and both men held their breath.

They could hear the behemoth’s breathing and growling, and the sound of branches and grass crunching under its gigantic paws. Gladio stole a glance from behind their cover, and Noctis’ heart skipped a beat when he tugged at him to look too.

Noctis was already familiar with those beasts, from seeing those realistic reproductions at the museum, but observing one that close made him almost break in a cold sweat. Until he realized that its right side, the one facing them, was entirely covered in scars, the horn broken and the eye of a milky white color. The beast’s jaw moved as saliva and blood dripped from its fangs, and when it lowered its head they could hear the sickening sound of crushed bones and ripped flesh.

Gladio looked at him with a small smirk and pointed to his own right eye.

“Deadeye,” he murmured. “The name says it all.”

Noctis refrained from saying anything about how obvious it was, lest their bickering would get them killed. The prince sensed movement behind him: Prompto and Ignis slowly and silently emerged from the tunnel. His retainer had to put his hand on the gunslinger’s mouth to keep him from yelping.

At a signal from Gladio, the three friends crawled their way under the metal sheets, quickly before the behemoth finished its meal. Just when they thought they would be out of peril, Gladio grunted and ducked under a roofing piece. And not a second too late, for Noctis saw the behemoth’s snout right before him and blocking the path. The beast had caught a strange scent and tried to see where it came from. Thankfully, the gap between the metal tiles was too narrow for the whole head to fit, and so the beast could not see what was inside that crawling space. It gave out a deafening roar inside the tunnel, as if vexed, and then it snorted heavily as it turned and walked away.

As the heavy footsteps faded in the distance, Noctis could steal a glance towards Gladio, who was a bit paler than usual. Even so, the man pulled himself together in a second, and motioned for them to follow him again. The prince didn’t want to look back, but he could swear he heard a muffled sob from Prompto.

They came out to a clearing covered in thick mist. Somehow, the more the day advanced, the less one could see in that forest.

“It’s weak on the right,” said Gladio. “No eye, no horn.”

“We’ll stay in range until we can exploit that weakness,” Ignis offered.

 _“As if it was that easy,”_ thought Noctis, but they had to use any advantage they could find, however small it might seem.

They slowly advanced through the mist. The trees were more numerous the deeper they went into the forest, as if they acted as a natural barrier. They could hear the behemoth’s rumbling roars in the distance.

The path led them to a metal fence which blocked the way. Beyond, the mist was still so dense they started shivering.

“We’ve got the beast in our sights,” Gladio murmured before they climbed the fence.

“But no plan of attack,” Ignis lamented. “The behemoth should be headed back to its lair, where we can catch it fully off guard.”

“Yeah,” Noctis pointed out. “As long as we stay on guard ourselves.”

Following the beast to its lair was a risky gamble, especially knowing that those beasts were especially cautious when near it. Going all four was out of the question, so they drew lots and it would be Noctis the one to actually follow, with the others being at a distance.

He approached a boulder for cover, and heard the heavy footsteps and the rumbling purr of the beast at the other side. It was roaming the premises, making sure there was no intruder near. Taking a peek around the rock, he saw it as a vague form in the mist: the horns tailed forward and the bristly mane adorning the powerful neck. The tail could have swept a loaded truck, and it was as long as the animal itself.

Suddenly the head turned and the growl grew deeper and louder. Noctis hid behind the rock and held his breath. Seeing only the silhouette, he couldn’t tell which way the behemoth was looking, but it didn’t take a genius to guess it.

Sniffing and huffing, the behemoth kept his march. Just as he nearly lost the sight of the tail in the mist, Noctis slid from behind his cover and prowled his way forward, never losing sight of the beast.

He followed the animal as it traced eights all around the clearing, stopping to sniff here and there, and to listen to the sounds of the forest. Noctis was about to lose any hope, when he suddenly saw the behemoth’s form tensing and jumping with cat-like grace over a rocky wall.

That was its lair.

He heard hurried steps behind him.

“That’s where it is,” Gladio said with the excitement of the hunter. “C’mon, let’s find a gap between the rocks.”

Noctis doubted it would be so convenient, but Ignis reminded him that the Nebulawood was once the location of some lucian weaponry, and that most of the rocky formations around them were the result of landslides.

They found a small gap between two boulders and squeezed themselves through it, coming to what appeared to be the ruins of the weaponry themselves. There was no roof to speak of, and tall, brick walls reached up to the equivalent of a third floor; the ground was uneven, with only small patches as clues of the concrete flooring that might have existed in the past.

The path kept going on and then turned left, then right, then left again, and at every turn they stopped and took a peek to see what might be beyond. The friend spoke in hushed tones, even when the ruins seemed empty: behemoths were cunning animals and one was never cautious enough.

What did catch their eye was the number of scattered barrels of oil left behind. Judging by their looks, they seemed to have been brought by those unfortunate hunters and left there. Ignis had an idea, and made Gladio haul two of them.

At last they arrived at what looked like a dead end. The building’s walls had collapsed at their left, opening to a precipice, while at their right there was an open space with a small promontory, and beyond, part of a collapsed rock wall.

“Now what?” murmured Gladio, leaving the two oil barrels at his feet, annoyed that there were even more barrels scattered in that place.

“I have a plan,” said Ignis. “If we just-”

At that moment the mist cleared, and they heard a rumbling growl: What they had mistaken by another boulder at the top of the collapsed rock was nothing more than the very behemoth they were looking for. The beast was expecting them, and waited until they were deep in his lair to attack.

The behemoth leaped to the promontory, roaring and ready for the kill. Noctis felt Ignis’ hand around his arm.

“Light the barrels with magical fire once it leaps down,” his retainer said hurriedly.

Without even turning to look at him, the prince took out a magic grenade from his pocket and waited while the others scattered and took positions. The beast stood in that promontory just a few seconds before leaping to lower ground, but for Noctis it seemed like an eternity. When he saw the powerful limbs tense, he readied his arm and threw the grenade just as the beast was in the air.

With a combination of luck and good aim, the grenade hit one of the barrels just as the behemoth’s paws touched the ground, exploding and engulfing the beast in a ball of fire.

“Now, Prompto!” Ignis yelled.

The gunslinger fired away at the beast, which was now roaring in pain and rage, trying to extinguish the flames. In its madness, it charged forward, its remaining horn trailed forward and down. They leaped out of the way, but Gladio cleaved at its right flank, wounding it. Noctis heard his Shield giving a brief yelp as he jumped away from the burning beast, patting at the fire his jacket had caught.

Far from falling down the precipice, the behemoth skidded to a halt just at the last moment and, turning his head towards Noctis, he charged again.

 _“Should have jumped to the right,”_ he thought in desperation as he saw the beast charging.

His reflexes acted, and he jumped onto the attacking horn just as the behemoth was about to gore him. The beast propelled him upwards, and he used the momentum to take out another grenade and throw it to its face. He landed safely at a distance while the behemoth reeled from the last attack. Gladio had renewed its own assault from behind while he dodged the thrashing tail, now that the fire from the barrel had died down, while Prompto fired from a safe distance and Ignis supported them with more magic fire of his own.

Despite having four hunters upon him, the behemoth seemed to have taken a special interest on Noctis, who warped to the momentary safety of a nearby high wall. The animal scratched furiously at said wall, trying to reach the prince, but Gladio jumped and landed a powerful blow to his left hindquarters, bringing its attention upon him. When the animal turned its head with a snarl, Gladio screamed and hit his chest with one fist in defiance.

The behemoth charged at him, and he was readying his greatsword and his shield with a smirk on his face. A powerful paw swatted at the warrior, but he endured the attack. Shifting his footing, he sprang to the behemoth’s right, and in the same movement he rolled forward and willed away the shield. Before the beast could react, Gladio swung upwards with all his might at the ribcage, and a spray of gore followed the blade’s arc.

Seeing their chance when the beast staggered from the deep wound, Ignis threw another fire grenade before cleaving at it with his lance, Prompto aimed at the head (and never missing), and Noctis warped to lodge his sword at the base of the behemoth’s skull.

The roars stopped all of a sudden, and the animal seemed like it was frozen for a moment before collapsing heavily, his remaining eye rolled inside the head.

“Is it dead?” asked Prompto as the friends approached the felled beast.

“With a wound like that? You bet,” Gladio said with a broad smile. Of the four of them, he was the one who enjoyed battle the most.

Noctis took his sword with both hands and pulled. He had to plant his foot on the back of the skull to have some leverage until the blade was free at last, coming out of the beast’s body with a sound of metal against bone that made him grind his teeth.

They took a brief rest, looking at the enormous body. It was hard to think when they said their goodbyes at Insomnia that they would end up felling those monsters.

Prompto hummed a victory fanfare from one of the videogames they liked to play sometimes.

“Sounds like someone’s in a good mood,” Noctis commented with a smile.

“Basking on our hard-fought victory, I presume,” Ignis said. He then added. “We could take some provisions with us from our quarry.”

“Behemoth steak, woohoo!” Prompto shoot his fists upwards.

While Gladio and Ignis busied themselves with cutting the behemoth’s carcass, Noctis and Prompto searched for some exit at the collapsed wall the behemoth had been standing over. There was a way, a narrow one, but once they moved the metal sheets blocking it, there was enough space for them to crawl; then they came to a natural passage which led them to the Nebulawood.

The walk back to the farm was much less tense, though they knew they couldn’t tarry, for the sun was already low in the sky. Despite the late hour, however, birds sung over their heads, as if already celebrating that Deadeye was no more.

Wiz waited for them at the edge of the fence with a torchlight ready on his hand, in case night fell before the young men arrived. His weathered, earnest face broadened with a smile as he saw the four hunters walking up the dirt road from the forest, battered and tired, but satisfied for a completed job.

“You boys did it!” he exclaimed as they approached. “You took down Deadeye! The areas’ safe again, an’ we owe it all to you!”

“So,” said Prompto. “About the chocobos…”

“Our birds’re at your disposal,” the old man proclaimed. “You can rent them any time you like.”

“Woohoo!” the gunslinger screamed. “C’mon, Noct, let’s go for a ride! Erm… tomorrow I mean,” he quickly added when he saw the glances Ignis and Gladio threw at him.

Night was already upon them, and Wiz ushered them into the premises. That night the caravan was on the house, and they could use the ranch workers’ showers and facilities. The old man also insisted that they dinned that night on the house too, but Ignis thanked him and argued that behemoth sirloin was best cooked right after cutting it.

They feasted that night, not without Ignis taking first one serving to the ranch for Wiz.

Things were looking better, and they felt that, whatever the empire might throw at them, they would be prepared.


	22. Dark Clouds

**BOOK 2: THE TALE OF THE CHOSEN KING  
**

**CHAPTER 10 – DARK CLOUDS**

The next morning, while the four friends had their breakfast at the rented caravan, the radio aired an official statement from the empire, blaming a group of insurgents for the attacks on the Citadel. According to the empire, said rebels had also allegedly killed the king, forcing Niflheim to step forward and fill the power void left in Lucis to prevent the region from falling into anarchy.

The four friends listened in silence, stopped mid-movement, even, when High Commander Ravus Nox Fleuret’s voice talked about the new imperial blockade across the region of Duscae: They believed the insurgents to have taken refuge in that region and the empire’s intent was on finding them. As if wanting to add insult to injury, he also stressed how the imperial army would continue its recovery efforts in the Crown City.

Noctis almost choked with his own bile at hearing that news. They empire had killed his father and used that as an excuse to conquer Lucis, just as they did with Tenebrae. “Recovery” was an imaginative relabeling for an invasion.

The quakes in Duscae and Cleigne finally stopped. The empire claimed that the cause of the tremors was the Archaean, who had awakened in a fit of rage, and that it had been the imperial army the one to lain the giant to rest, thus averting disaster. To the eyewitness claiming that Titan had disappeared from the Disc of Cauthess, the empire said nothing.

Noctis and his friends discussed which options they had, given that their suspicion of the empire having the Regalia was almost a fact.

“Maybe we could ask Ardyn to help us again, right?” Prompto offered.

“The imperial chancellor,” Gladio repeated sarcastically.

“He represents a problem, not a solution,” Ignis remarked.

“So where does that leave us?”

“Stranded, awaiting word from Hammerhead.”

“In the meantime, we’ll have to hoof it,” said Gladio

“Look, it’s Umbra!” Prompto pointed behind Noctis.

The black dog sat at some distance, as if waiting for Noctis, but when the prince approached, Umbra dashed off. The four friends ran after the animal, which led them outside the Post. Finally coming to a stop, Umbra sat by a tree.

When they caught up with the dog, someone stepped from behind that tree.

“Gentiana…”

She stood there, pale skinned and dark-haired, her eyes closed and a soft smile gracing her lips, just as Noctis remembered her from his stay at Tenebrae.

“Hear me, O King of the Stone,” she said in her deep, melodious voice. “By the Stormsender’s blessing will the path to the Stone be opened. The Oracle goes hence in her King’s name.”

“Luna.” Noctis felt such a strong rush of emotions that he could barely utter her name. “Where is she now?”

“The eye of the Storm. When the covenant is forged, the Oracle and ring shall await their King at the Walls of Water. Stray not from the path.”

She was near, but soon she would be out of reach again. The prince shook his head in frustration, but when he looked up Gentiana had vanished, true to her supernatural origin.

While Ignis explained to Prompto what they had seen, Noctis knelt to scratch Umbra behind the ears. Then he took the diary from the pouch and searched anxiously for the last entry.

_“My prayers are with you, Noctis.”_

He wished she had written more, but her messages had to be brief if she was on the run. Nevertheless, he caressed her handwriting, closing his eyes. Just a little longer…

Taking a pen, he wrote on the next page: “I received the blessing. Thank you, Luna.”

He felt he could have written until either he ran out of pages or the pen dried out, but he kept it brief like she had done.

“Let Luna know,” he told Umbra with difficulty. “I’m okay, and she won’t have to wait much longer… we’ll be together soon.”

As he said those words, a memory came back to him, of the days he had spent recovering from his wound, and learning the Crystal’s lore from Lunafreya.

 _“The Crystal was gifted to mankind that we might know lasting prosperity,”_ she taught him.

_“If the Crystal belongs to everyone, how come only Lucis gets to use it?”_

_“The kings of Lucis do not simply use the Crystal; they also protect it.”_

_“Wait, so my dad’s guarding it?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“I had no idea.”_

_“To crown the King of Light is the calling of the Crystal. And keeping the Crystal safe until that day falls to the line of Lucis.”_

_“And I’m the Chosen?”_

_“Only the True King, anointed by the Crystal, can purge our star of its scourge,”_ her smile faded. It would always bother Noctis that he never knew why it happened each time she talked about the Chosen purging the scourge.

_“You really think I can do that?”_

_“As Oracle, I will see to it,”_ she said, her smile returning. “ _To aid the King is the Oracle’s calling.”_

 _“Then…”_ seeing her trust on him had always given him courage. He couldn’t remember, though, if that time he just bluffed it. _“I guess I can do it,”_ he said, puffing out his chest. _“I won’t let you down.”_

_“I know you won’t.”_

Now an adult, he still harbored the same doubts. Would he be able to vanquish the Starscourge once and for all?

As a parting gift, Gentiana sent him a message and a vision: He saw an old, gnarled tree being hit by thunderstorm, again and again.

_“Bridging heaven and earth it strikes, the Storm’s ephemeral yet eternal Light. To the Light must go the King.”_

They chose the fastest chocobos Wiz had in his ranch, and headed north, where dark clouds gathered.

“Lady Lunafreya has done well to keep the ring from falling into enemy’s hands,” Ignis commented as they rode away.

“All we need to do is hit Altissia,” Prompto pointed out.

“That entails passage aboard a ship. Caem may serve us now as it did them then.”

“The hidden harbor…” said Gladio, remembering the story of his father and King Regis setting sail from Caem. “Hmph, just might work. I’ll have Iris set it up.”

The travel to the tree was brief, but they saw many assault crafts flying over their heads. The chocobos were quick, but their brilliant colors gave them away.

The four friends arrived at the spot Noctis had signaled. There was a narrow corridor which wounded it way into a hill. At the end stood a dead tree, constantly hit by lightning. The prince approached it and extended his hand, fully expecting Ramuh, the Stormbringer, to put up a fight.

It wasn’t like that. Purple lightning crackled and arced to his hand, and he had yet another vision. This time, a memory.

_During his stay at Tenebrae, Noctis was bound to a wheelchair. Luna had given him her copy of the Cosmology, the book which told about the legend of the Crystal and the gods. One morning, he was dozing off in the room he shared with Luna and, when he opened his eyes, a woman clad in dark robes was sitting on a chair nearby._

_“Ah,” she said softly. “The young prince is recovering well.”_

_She had a gentle smile, like Luna’s, but her eyes were always closed. The woman then introduced herself to him and asked him whether if he had read about her kind._

_He took some moments to answer, looking at the book on his lap and wondering how she knew he had been reading it._

_“I tried to, but only know what Luna told me,” he had said._

_“Lady Lunafreya,” she corrected him._

_“Yeah, Lunafrr… Luna.”_

_The woman smiled while he felt his cheeks burning._

_“It is heartening to see the future King and the Oracle enjoy such familiarity,” she said, smiling gently. Then she added, enigmatically: “The fate of the world may depend on it.”_

Noctis opened his eyes. Gentiana spoke to him again. There would be other two places he would have to visit. She also told him that it was Luna the one awakening the gods so that they would give their blessing to the King.

The second place wasn’t unlike the first one, only this time the path between the mountains was. This time, however, the power he received didn’t trigger any vision.

The third place was far to the west, in a cave at the other side of the Duscae region.

As they approached the designated place, a flash of light made them cover their eyes.

“That one was pretty close,” Gladio said.

“Which means we must be as well,” Ignis pointed out.

Prompto tried to remind them about the perils of being hit by lightning, but none of them seemed to listen. Since those lightning bolts were the work of Ramuh, they reasoned that they wouldn’t hit the Chosen One. However, seeing how Titan had welcomed them, Noctis wasn’t so sure about that logic.

They arrived at the foot of a rocky hill. The previous bolt of lightning had struck an enormous block of stone, making it explode, and revealing the mouth of a cave: Fociaugh Hollow.

“We’re supposed to go inside?” Prompto asked, though his tone implied that it was the last thing he wanted to do. His companions stared at him then, and he sighed, shooting his fist in the air without much enthusiasm. “Here we are… Fociaugh Hollow!”

“No telling what waits inside,” said Ignis, happy to find some refuge from the rain.

“Stay sharp,” Gladio grumbled.

“Always,” the prince adjusted his flashlight and entered the cave.

The tunnel seemed handmade, and it wound its way very deep into the earth. Prompto pointed out that fact, and Noctis remembered that his friend suffered from claustrophobia. At the Greyshire cave Prompto shown signs of restlessness, but the prince had to admit that even he was starting to feel uneasy as they walked down the dark tunnel.

The cave was deadly silent, and except for some imps, there was no trace of life inside. Nevertheless, Ignis insisted on being as cautious as possible. As they kept walking down in the dark, they could still hear the distant rumble of the thunder outside, and if they stood still, they could also feel it under their feet.

After a while, the tunnel opened to their right to another gallery, half blocked with fallen rocks, but from which they could feel a current of air.

_“My baby…”_

Though a sibilant whisper, the unnatural voice reached them loud and clear.

“Wha-What was that sound?” said Prompto, looking around.

Noctis thought he could see something scurrying in the tunnel ahead of them, just outside the beam of light. He took some steps forward, past the intersection and cautious that whatever it was didn’t jump on him. He could feel Gladio and Ignis just behind.

A shrill scream sounded just behind them, and Gladio could only see Prompto’s boots disappearing behind the bend on the rock. His scream faded beyond the dark, half-buried tunnel.

Noctis called for his friend and, forgetting all precaution, he rushed forwards which his two friends just behind him.

The tunnel opened to a chamber, the natural cave the excavators seemed to have been looking for. The path took them to their right, following a wide cornice running along the wall. Below them, there was a maze divided by stalagmites, and half lit by the crevices on the high, rocky ceiling. The abundant rain and the sound of thunder filtered through, making the floor dangerously slippery in places.

“Prompto!” Gladio bellowed. “Are you okay?”

“No, I’m not okay!” came the gunslinger’s voice from one of the levels below.

Despite the fact that he kept running towards the source of his friend’s voice, Noctis sighed inwardly in relief. He knew his friend, and in Prompto’s voice there was more annoyance than terror.

“This place is literally the worst!” the gunslinger kept complaining. “And why did it have to be a snake? That thing dragged me all the way over here!”

Now Noctis could see him! Prompto was alone, his gun drawn in a defensive stance. Unharmed, thanks the Six.

“I’m going with him,” the prince told Ignis. “We’ll see you two later.”

Before Gladio could say anything, Noctis warped towards the place his friend stood, and not a moment too soon, for the smell of human had lured the daemons out.

At first only imps and hobgoblins appeared. The later were humanoid daemons with overdeveloped arms which flailed their fists around as if they were clubs. They weren’t terribly strong, but soon other daemons joined: Thunder bombs, embodiments of lightning magic in the form of floating spheres, and a mindflayer.

Prompto and Noctis would have been in serious trouble then if not for the timely arrival of Ignis and Gladio. The retainer’s spear wounded the mindflayer just when it was about to envelop Prompto with his tentacles. The monster turned to him, but it was Noctis the one who struck him while Ignis switched to his daggers to attack a nearby thunder bomb. Gladio, in turn, made short work of the remaining hobgoblins, resisting their heavy blows with his shield, and attacking with his greatsword while Prompto covered him.

Soon the cave was silent again as the daemons dissolved into a black mist.

“You okay?” panted Noctis.

“Guess so,” said Prompto, shaking his head, probably to clear his mind a bit. He then described to them that he couldn’t see much of the monster, but that he was sure it was a giant snake. It had coiled its tail around him and dragged him down to the cave, to then leave him alone and at the mercy of the other daemons.

They continued their path downguards, with Prompto on constant alert in case the monster attacked again.

The path led them to another chamber, barely lit this time. Perhaps the crevices didn’t run that deep in that part of the hill. The thunder kept rumbling outside, but the rain seemed to have stopped, since they didn’t hear the dripping of water anymore. Beyond them they saw two paths, and Noctis thought he could spy, just at the end of the path to the left, flashes of lightning.

But when he was about to step forward, he felt Prompto’s strong grip on his arm.

“It’s here,” he murmured, looking at the ceiling.

His three friends followed his gaze, but could see nothings beyond the stalactites. Gladio was the first one to summon back his sword just a fraction of a second before a giant mass of scales fell heavily before them with a splash. Slowly uncoiling under the light filtering again alongside the rain, it revealed an horrific face, which was but a mockery of a woman, its lanky hair dangling around it like putrid algae.

“See? There she is!” Prompto screamed. “That’s her!”

But the monster, which was called a naga, ignored the gunslinger’s outburst and focused its milky white eyes on Noctis instead.

“My baby,” it hissed. “Where…”

The prince, maybe taken aback by the monster’s capability to speak, stammered an awkward offering to go search for the “baby”. The naga snarled, showing two rows of sharp teeth.

“That would mean… YOU took him!” it roared, opening its mouth wide and lunging at Noctis.

The prince warped just as the jaws closed around the where he stood a second before. Ignis issued orders to attack it with daggers and greatswords, as well as ice, if possible. Prompto, eager to get rid of that particular monstrosity, prepared and ice grenade and threw it with all his strength. It exploded on the naga’s head, the water dripping from its hair adding power to the spell and stopping the monster but a second: enough time for Gladio to deliver a slash to its throat.

The naga’s skin was hardy, however, and it hissed in pain, spitting a cloud of green mist from its mouth.

“Take cover!” Ignis yelled.

But Noctis had already initiated a warp strike and the fog caught him midair… and they couldn’t see him anymore.

Prompto called for his friend in desperation, but Ignis chided him, urging him to focus on the combat. The retainer’s face was set in a grim mask as he passed a hand over his blades. The steel glowed with a bluish light for a moment, and the daggers started to emit a mist as if they were icicles. Ignis stood his ground as the naga lunged at him next, then he sidestepped at the last second and slashed the monster’s face and throat, deepening the wound Gladio had made.

The naga still reared back, dark liquid dripping from its mouth and wounds, but it was slowing down. Now it was Prompto’s turn to discharge a salvo on the weakening monster, hitting a spot which made it lower its head. Gladio lunged forward, cleaving at the cranium and splitting it in two with a loud crack. The monster lay still for a moment on the ground and then its body began to dissolve.

“Noct!” Prompto called, frantically looking around.

They heard a toad croaking near them. They looked at each other for an instant, befuddled that a small animal could survive down there. As they tried to discern where the noise came from, there was a puff of green smoke and Noctis appeared near the entrance of the chamber, squatting, and looking even more confused than them.

“Noct?”

“The hell just happened?” the prince said, getting to his feet in embarrassment. “I was going to strike it and then…”

“It appears the green emanations had some side effect,” said Ignis, adjusting his glasses to hide a smile.

“Well,” said Gladio. “At least you didn’t need to be kissed by a maiden to go back to yourself.”

“Very funny…”

“Yeah, fetching Lady Lunafreya is kinda difficult these days,” Prompto chimed in.

Noctis grumbled something and stomped his way towards the left aperture. Beyond the winding, dark path, lain an underground pond, and from the pond a gnarled tree grew under a natural opening on the cave’s ceiling. That was the final piece.

When Noctis touched it, greenish light coursed through the tree, and a purple lightning hit it then, its energy arcing to Noctis’ arm. He winced, but he endured the energy coursing through his body.

He had a vision: Luna stood before that same tree, bathed in light, singing her invocation, her hand outstretched forward. Ramuh, appearing from a stormy cloud in all his majesty, looked down at her, listening to her plea, and then he bowed his head in agreement.

“I expected more fire and brimstone,” Prompto commented when the lightning stopped.

“Some gods are friendlier than others, I guess,” said Gladio.

“But not all of them,” Noctis reminded them. He wondered what kind of god Leviathan, the guardian of Altissia, would be. “Poor Luna…”

“Perhaps you had better console her in person,” Ignis offered.

Prompto also tried to cheer him up.

“Just a boat ride away!”

“Lose that scowl along the way,” Gladio told the prince.

“Will do.”

As they made their way out of the cave they noticed the ground shaking slightly and a deep rumble could be felt if they touched the rocky walls.

Upon exiting, a giant battleship flew over their heads. It was much bigger than a dreadnought, and the forest trees shook violently on its wake.

Noctis’ phone buzzed. It was Cindy.

_“Hey, Highness. About your car…”_

“Yeah?”

_“Well, I found her, but she’s at a base.”_

“Ugh.”

_“Now, I can handle garage folk no problem, but sweet-talkin’ the empire? That’ll take some doing.”_

“Don’t worry about it. We’ll figure it out.”

_“You sure about that?”_

“Yeah, thanks for the heads up. Later.”

“Who was that?” Asked Gladio when he hung up.

“Cindy.”

“What?” Prompto’s voice nearly cracked. “You can’t talk to her like that!”

Ignis and Gladio hid their smiles. Poor Prompto had been like a puppy in love with Cid’s granddaughter ever since they met her.

“Yeah, I can” said Noctis, teasing him. “I just did.”

“And did she have any choice words for you?” Ignis asked.

“Yeah… the Regalia’s at an imperial base.”

“This is nothing more than conjecture,” said Ignis. “But I suspect that ship was due to arrive far earlier. The thunder and rain must’ve slowed it down. There’s a chance they intend to transport the Regalia back to Niflheim.”

They agreed to go to the fortress where that ship was headed. It wasn’t far from the Disc of Cauthess, a place named Archeole Stronghold.

As they traveled by chocobo, Noctis heard Prompto humming to himself from time to time. Of the four friends, he was the one having the most fun while riding. At one point, when they had left the rocky plains around the Disc of Cauthess behind, his friend approached rode near him to strike conversation. He complimented Cindy’s good heart and generosity with them, and wondered aloud if she would ever call them soon.

“Not soon enough for you, lover boy,” Gladio said aloud. He had been riding just behind Prompto when he got near the prince, and couldn’t help poking some fun at him.

The gunslinger chuckled in embarrassment and diverted the conversation elsewhere, but he had grown bright red to the roots of his hair.

As the sun went down for that day, they finally saw the fortress.

Grey concrete walls rose by the main road, with metal doors closing the perimeter shut. Inside, there was a generator in the form of tall antennae, emitting a reddish energy which served as power to the surrounding magitek units, making them extraordinary strong. It was a temporary fortress, however, one the empire would dismantle in a matter of hours.

“They are remnants of the Old War,” Ignis explained to them. “And the imperial has availed itself of the added protection. Entry will not be easy.”

They made camp near the stronghold to devise an infiltration strategy.

A front assault would leave them exposed, but moving under the cover of night, they might be able to infiltrate the base unnoticed. That way they could gather all the information about its security, aside from the Regalia’s location, and Ignis could analyze it later to find them a way in.

Noctis would be the one clearing the way, with his warping ability. It was as silent as it was deadly for the MT units, though he had to mind his energy. The bipedal constructs, however, they left alone.

Silently and steadily, they made their way to the center of the base, leaving a trail of disabled MTs on their wake. They finally reached the center, where they had parked the Regalia.

“There’s the old girl,” Noctis murmured with satisfaction.

They had already scouted the area, finding neither guards nor surveillance, so they ran towards the car.

“She’s a real sigh for sore eyes!” said Prompto, caressing the panel of the car.

“And none the worse for her time in imperial hands.”

As Ignis was talking, he reached for the door handle, but Noctis stopped him. It was a trap.

Before they could react, there were several MA.X. units upon them, plus many MTs. They would have to clear a path for the Regalia, and keep all fire away from her. The friends carved their way towards the powering generator, proving that they had more experience than the day they had cleaned the tomb’s entrance with Cor’s help.

The fight dragged well into the night, and it was near dawn when they reached the generator. Their enemies were twice as powerful as normal, and they tried to cut Noctis from his companions. The last MA.X. standing before the generator proved to be tougher than the rest and, when everything seemed to be lost, Noctis felt a pang in his head. He prayed, not knowing why or how, and the light from the incoming sunrise was suddenly darkened with thick, stormy clouds. He felt himself lifted from the ground; a giant hand hoisted him: Ramuh’s hand.

The god raised his staff, crackling with purple energy, and threw it to the generator. The ground shook violently upon impact, and lightning arced everywhere, turning everything it touched to fire. Both the generator and all the remaining MTs were destroyed in a single attack.

As the lightning subsided, Ramuh lowered the prince to the ground, where he could see that his friends had been protected from the god’s wrath by a magic barrier.

“This is the might of the Six…” he murmured as he looked around him, sparks of fire and electricity still flying around.

“Dude… that… was… hardcore!”

“And it did the trick,” said Ignis, always more moderate than Prompto. “The place is dead.”

“Rest in pieces,” Gladio mocked a salute to the generator. “C’mon, let’s grab the Regalia and split.”

The morning sun reflected beautifully on the Regalia’s bodywork. At least they had cleaned and polished her, no doubt to present her as a trophy to the emperor.

Prompto was the first one to stop on his tracks, and the first one to slowly turn around.

“Guys?”

They followed his voice.

A tall, silver haired man approached them, unsheathed sabre in hand. He wore a long, pristine white coat, the empire’s official color, but instead of red, the accents of his clothes were black and purple, the colors of Tenebrae. The coat’s lapel crossed at the chest, closing it tightly, but it was open from the waist down to allow freedom of movement, exposing his black trousers, high, armored boots and a sash bearing the coat of arms of House Fleuret.

But what caught their attention was the prosthetic left arm, richly adorned, but still a magitek product from the empire.

Noctis felt a faint sense of recognition at first, before the clothes gave the newcomer away. It had been twelve years since they had last seen each other and, if at Tenebrae, Luna’s brother only tolerated him on behalf of Lady Sylva and his sister, now Ravus approached him with a murderous glint in his eyes.

“Long has it been, Noctis.” Said the Lord of Tenebrae. “You receive the Storm’s blessing,” he walked up to Noctis; his friends quickly regrouped and stood protecting him, but they didn’t see the glimmer of metal to the prince’s throat. “And yet, you know nothing of the consequences.”

“Watch it!” Gladio tried to push the prince out of the sabre’s point, but Ravus, with a dexterous flicker of his wrist, had the blade against the Shield’s neck.

Ignis made a movement as if to summon his daggers, but Ravus raised his prosthetic hand.

“Be still. All of you.” He calmly ordered, keeping his eyes on Noctis, to whom he addressed next. “Heir to a crown befitting no other,” he said, closing his left hand and looking briefly at it. “Witness his splendor and glory. All hail the Chosen One.”

“Awful high and might for an imperial rat, serving the enemy to hunt down Luna!” Noctis accused him with bitterness, irked at the mockery in Ravus’ voice.

Ravus composure was finally broken. With a snake’s speed, he grabbed the prince by the throat with his artificial arm.

“I do not serve,” he hissed. “I command!”

Luna’s brother pushed Noctis away, and Gladio could finally put himself between him and their attacker. It was only then that the Lord of Tenebrae deigned to pay him any attention.

“The king’s sworn shield,” he scoffed at him.

“You better believe it,” Gladio puffed up his chest, but Ravus only smirked ever so slightly.

“A weak shield protects naught,” he claimed, raising his sabre.

Gladio summoned his great sword to parry the attack, but it felt as if he was trying to stop a crane, and Ravus had used his human arm.

With an expert movement, Luna’s brother unbalanced Gladio to his right, creating an opening and, with the sabre’s pommel, he hit the bigger man on the stomach, sending him flying to crash on the Regalia’s side.

Seeing what Ravus had done made Noctis lose his composure completely. He summoned the Royal Arms, ready for battle.

“Wanna go? Let’s do it,” he growled as the phantoms of the kings’ weapons floated around him.

“Should the Chosen fall,” Ravus murmured. “That too is fate.”

“I’d say that’s far enough,” said a voice near them.

Ravus scowled when Ardyn Izunia sauntered towards them, and turned away from the chancellor, not deigning to talk to him.

“A hand, Highness,” Ardyn asked the prince.

“Not from you.”

“Oh, but I’m here to help,” the other said. It was infuriatingly impossible to discern whether if his words were sardonic or just flamboyant.

“And how is that?” Ignis inquired.

“By taking the army away.”

“You expect us to believe that?” Gladio had a bit of difficulty hiding the fact that the hit had knocked all the air out of his lungs.

“When next we meet, it’ll be across the seas,” the chancellor said. “Just so happens that we have business of our own with the tutelary deity. Don’t we?” he asked Noctis directly.

At that, Ravus turned his head slightly, but Ardyn, with a dismissive gesture of his hand, sent him away. The Lord of Tenebrae obeyed without protesting, much to everyone else’s surprise.

“Fare thee well, Your Majesty, and safe travels,” the Chancellor said, turning away and following Ravus.

Noctis stood there for several minutes, seething in silence, as their friends tried to assess the damages done to the car by Gladio’s impact. The Shield still kept his hand on his stomach; even if he never uttered a single sound of complain.

“You guys know that guy?” Prompto asked.

“Ravus Nox Fleuret,” Ignis explained in a quiet voice. “First son of Tenebrae… and elder brother to Lady Lunafreya.”

Dark clouds gathered in the sky by noon, despite the clear dawn, and soon the rain began pattering on the car’s windows. They drove in silence, listening to the news.

 _“At long last the imperial blockades of Duscaean roadways have been removed,”_ the newscaster announced. _“The imperial army has also demolished all related facilities erected around the region. The provisional government of Insomnia anticipates increased traffic congestion along most local highways, and encourages all citizens to refrain from any unnecessary travel for the time being.”_

“So help me figure this out,” Prompto started, maybe to fill the silence. “That was Luna’s brother?”

“The High Commander himself,” Ignis explained. “Wartime makes for quick promotions.”

“Even a son of Tenebrae can rise to the top,” Gladio pointed out.

“But why would he want to lead their army?”

“Who cares?” Noctis snarled.

“Certainly formidable enough on his own,” Ignis continued, impervious to Noctis’ outburst.

“If Ravus wants power, I’ll give him a taste,” Noctis promised.

No one said anything more until they reached Lestallum.


	23. A Way Forward

**BOOK 2: THE TALE OF THE CHOSEN KING  
**

**CHAPTER 11 – A WAY FORWARD**

The sight had changed drastically since they went away. There were less people in the streets and pennants of the empire could be seen hanging almost everywhere. A sinking feeling sat on everyone’s stomach, even though they said nothing. They parked the Regalia and rushed to the Leville.

Lestallum looked like a ghost town. The street vendors were nowhere to be seen and almost all the cafés were closed. A heavy silence hung in the air, only broken by the sounds of the power plant in the distance. The few people walking around did so hurriedly, and many looked at them with apprehension. Any trace of the joy and activity they had seen days before seemed like a mirage as their footsteps echoed through the cobbled streets.

At the hotel plaza, the fountain kept running, its sound the only remnant of what the city had been.

Iris waited for them at the hotel’s lobby. As soon as they crossed the door she ran towards her older brother and embraced him.

“Gladdy,” she croaked, barely holding back her tears.

“What’s wrong?” Gladio’s face had turned ashen white.

“I let you down,” she said, her voice wavering. “I never made it to Caem. The empire came while you were gone.”

Then she burst in tears.

Gladio held her without saying a word. The muscles of his jaw tensed as his eyes burned with fury, but one big, callused hand caressed Iris’ hair with unusual tenderness while he held her. She was, after all, just fifteen.

The four friends brought the girl to their room, so she could tell them what had happened in private.

Brigadier General Caligo Ulldor had occupied Lestallum in search of Noctis and his friends. Somehow, he had identified the refugees coming from Insomnia and could handpick the former staff of the Palace, holding them for interrogation.

“None of us said a word about Noct,” she sobbed. “They just showed up and then… poor Jared.”

“What do you mean? What happened-?” Gladio managed to ask.

“There was nothing we could do!”

At that moment someone opened the door. It was young Talcott, who tried to speak, but burst in tears instead. It was a sight that broke Noctis’ heart.

“It’s… not right,” the prince said, kneeling to be at the boy’s height. “We should’ve been here.”

“I… I couldn’t stop them,” the child moaned.

“But I won’t let the empire get away with it. They’ll pay for what they’ve done. I promise.”

“I…” Talcott stammered, summoning some courage. “I believe in you, Prince Noctis.”

Wiping away his tears, the kid went back to his room. Suddenly the air in the suite was suffocating.

“I’m taking Talcott. And we’re going to Caem. We can’t just stay here and do nothing,” said Iris bravely, but in the end, she broke down in tears again.

Gladio accompanied his sister to her room and didn’t come back until much later. To Prompto’s question about how she was holding up, the Shield clenched his fists, but only nodded and said:

“She’ll be all right, she’s a big girl.”

That night Noctis had many nightmares. He dreamed of falling down an abyss, of having to fight for his life against endless hordes of MTs… of losing his powers when he most needed them just before waking up with a jolt. He spent the rest of the night at the balcony, lost in thought.

The next morning he learned that none of his friends had slept well either. Gladio had been the busiest one with the preparations of what they would do next.

“I can’t let Iris go alone after everything that went down,” he told Noctis. “It’ll be a squeeze in the car, but just for a while.”

Cid and his granddaughter were already fixing the boat at Caem, Gladio said. Time was on the essence, and Noctis knew it better than anyone. That very morning they left for Cape Caem with Iris

Dustin and Monica had taken Talcott with them in the small hours of the night, to prepare everything for their arrival. That had been the official excuse; the truth was that neither Crownsguards could stand the sight of the young, sleepless boy wandering the halls of the hotel like a lost soul anymore, so they took him far away as soon as possible.

“Good morning,” Iris greeted them, a bit of her old self returning. “Who’s ready to kick some ass?”

That day was a splendid one, not very different from the day they started their journey. The breeze was fresh and comforting, and it helped them forget their worries.

“Looking at the Regalia really reminds me of home,” Iris said as she watched the mountains pass by.

“It sure doesn’t look like any of the cars you see around here,” Prompto commented.

“And it’s a lot roomier, too!” she observed, looking at how she fit between Noctis and her big brother. “I can’t imagine trying to cram five people, including Gladdy, into one of those things. Have you ever ridden in one?”

“Can’t say we have,” Noctis confessed.

“There was barely enough room for our luggage! Thank goodness you guys could give me a lift.”

“Think the others made it to Caem alright?” Gladio mused.

“I suppose we’ll find out when we get there,” Ignis sighed.

The road stretched before them with not another car in sight. The next settlement they would find down the road would be Old Lestallum, which over the years had been reduced, from village, to a mere resting area as soon as all the inhabitants moved near the power plant.

Old Lestallum they saw another giant airship flying by when they drove near Old Lestallum. The empire had seemingly occupied an old base, Fort Vaullerey, just south of the small village. Eliminating it would deliver a hard blow to their enemies.

They left Iris at Old Lestallum’s motel and then drove to the fort.

“You sure she’ll be all right?” Noctis asked.

“She’s all grown up,” said Gladio, not without pride. “She can take care of herself.”

The plan Ignis had devised was simple in theory: to capture the base commander and hold him in questioning.

“Targeting metal men will yield little in the way or reconnaissance,” he said. “But bones bend easily.”

Prompto shuddered at how Ignis said those last words while adjusting his gloves.

They quickly organized their assault once night came. Prompto and Gladio would be the distraction, while Ignis and Noctis would carry out the attack.

Given that each fort had similar security measures and layout, finding a way in wasn’t too difficult for the two of them. Under the cover of the night they could spot the base commander. He was too easy to identify: a middle aged man clad in a shiny imperial armor stomped angrily his way down to his quarters, flanked by two MTs. He was ranting, even though he knew full well that his escort wouldn’t answer. In truth, Brigadier General Caligo Ulldor thought MTs were the best soldiers: They were silent, efficient and never raised an objection when a sacrifice was demanded from them.

For it was no other than Jared’s murderer who walked past them. Noctis felt a restraining hand on his shoulder when his retainer recognized the man; Ignis himself squeezed the prince’s shoulder maybe a bit too hard. Information was precious and came in small quantities, even under duress, let the man pour it all over the place and save them time, the retainer whispered.

And so the two followed that odious man’s voice deep into the base, dodging lights and killing any soldier about to discover them.

“The insolence of that up-jumped mercenary,” the man ranted as he walked. “And there is still no word. This cannot be borne. Such behavior besmirches His Radiance’s good name. What’s that chancellor playing at? I’m no man’s fool. He sent Highwind to watch me. It’s no coincidence she and I meet wherever I go. Claims to _trust her as a person_. Hollow words from the mind behind the magitek movement. I might have acted in haste with that impudent steward back in Lestallum, but my mission remains clear. And I’ll be damned if that mercenary gets her grubby hands on the prince before Caligo Ulldor. I’ll give Highwind one last chance to respond.”

At long last he walked past a laser security door.

“Stand guard here,” he finally ordered the soldiers. “If the commodore arrives, send her through.”

Noctis warped beyond that door before Caligo could close it. There was almost no security now. Knocking him unconscious was no problem. A warp movement and the man lay flat on the ground.

An explosion shook the ground and a flash of reddish light came from the base of the magitek generator. Ignis _escorted_ Caligo out of the base while Noctis would regroup with the others and cover the abduction.

It was time to get loose.

With the generator destroyed getting rid of security was an easy. Just as they were cleaning the last remnants, Ignis appeared.

“Glad to see you lot were successful,” he said, almost out of breath.

“Does that mean you weren’t?”

“I placed our captive into the Hunter’s custody,” he made a grimace. “But I’ve just been informed he’s fled. He lives to die another day.”

“And I’ll gladly help him with that,” Noctis declared grimly. “Let’s go of here.”

Still with the bitterness at the back of his mouth, Noctis led them back to the entrance. They didn’t notice the remaining soldier keeping an eye on their every movement.

Aranea had been sent by Ardyn, as Caligo suspected, to keep track of him. It takes a snake to know a snake, thus the chancellor never trusted neither the Brigadier General’s achievements, nor his bootlicking attitude. Nevertheless, Chancellor Izunia still thought Ulldor useful for his plans. The commodore, however, was a free spirit and, though she was ready to follow orders as long as she was paid, she would do so in her own way. She had been a privileged witness to Noctis and his friend’s deeds inside the fort. Also to Caligo’s rant, and that was why she didn’t move a finger and just let the play unfold. She was most curious to see to which extents these four men would go.

But now that Caligo had slithered his way out of the Hunters’ grasp, the fun was spoiled, and she was still curious about these men.

Noctis raised his sword just in time to block the incoming attack falling from the sky.

She rebounded, falling to the ground and jumping again. This time she had a split second to smirk at the prince and taunt him.

“Hey, pretty boy,” she purred, narrowing her bright, green eyes with delight.

She jumped away just in time to dodge an attack from Gladio.

“Let’s see what you can do!” she challenged them, twirling her lance and adopting a fighting pose.

Gladio grunted in frustration at the strange woman. She was quick and dangerous as a serpent, heir to the almost forgotten art of the dragoons. They all noticed with alarm that she was just playing with them, wearing them until they could no longer fight. It had been a long night and, ravenous as they might be for vengeance, they were tiring, and slowing down.

She seemed to take almost no damage, even if their attacks did hit her. That woman was a hardened mercenary-turned-soldier, she had seen and felt much more than what these boys had to offer her.

She dodged a slash from Gladio’s sword and she jumped to a giant pipe over their heads.

“Aw, is it that time already?” she purred from above.

“What time?” Noctis asked in bewilderment.

“Quittin’ time,” she said, swinging her lance around and tucking it at her back. “Sorry, but this girl doesn’t work after hours. I could, but there wouldn’t be a single gil in it for me. We should play again sometime, pretty boy.”

She jumped away, a dark bolt against the starry night, and was gone for good.

“Who the hell was she?” was the only thing Noctis could utter.

Still disconcerted, they made their way to the Regalia. It was intact, thank the Six, and they drove back to Old Lestallum.

Iris waited for them at the Motel’s entrance, spying the road despite the late hours of the night. The owners had advised her not to wander away and out of the artificial lights, and she had been provided at some point with a mug of hot broth, courtesy of the restaurant’s cook. Though as her brother claimed her to be, she was still fifteen, and still a child before many eyes.

She flailed her arms and jumped up and down when she saw the lights of the Regalia. She could recognize a car from Insomnia with her eyes closed, and the Regalia was especially outstanding.

“You’re back!” she shouted in delight. “Did you kick their asses?”

“Oh, yeah,” Noctis puffed out his chest.

“All in a day’s work,” her brother boasted.

They all hung out at the boys’ room before going to bed. They filled her in with what had happened at the fort, and she told them about all the rumors she had heard while she idled at the service area.

The next day they continued their travel. When they passed by the tall, concrete walls of the now deserted fort, they all smiled, and Gladio had to suppress the urge to give it the middle finger. He was the big bro, after all, and he had to set a good example for his sister.

“I coulda gone another round,” he grumbled instead.

“Given her prowess,” Ignis pointed out, knowing full well whom he was referring to. “You should be glad you didn’t.”

“Yeah,” Prompto said. “That Loqi guy was nothing compared to her.”

“Though we may not have fared so well without the marshal.”

“Think things would’ve gone differently if he were here now?”

“She offered to play again,” Gladio reminded them. “Maybe we’ll get the chance to find out.”

The travel continued without a hitch, stopping just enough times to make camp, and for Iris to notice a pattern.

“So, you’re the one doing all the cooking?” she asked Ignis once they drove by the cliffs near Cape Caem.

“More or less.”

“Gladdy, don’t you help?” her tone threatened with an impending lecture.

Her older brother started grunting something, but clammed up at that very second. He knew that tone by heart, and also that it was better to not utter a single word.

“Noct?” the same tone.

“Eh, on occasion,” the prince stuttered.

“What occasion?” Ignis inquired.

“I do my part!” Prompto piped up cheerfully. “I always set the table.”

“That’s some arrangement you guys have here.”

Aside from that minor hiccup, the way to Cape Caem was uneventful enough. The lighthouse came into sight after they emerged form a tunnel, like a lonely guardian peering over the cliff. People were already there, working into reclaiming the old buildings, and even Cid and Cindy’s truck could be seen parked near the road.

The way to the shelter was dotted with remains of stone steps, now eroded by weather and time, and half hidden among the tall grass. There was a small house there, and at its door Talcott flailed his arms in salute. However, it was Cindy the one waiting for the group at the foot of those steps.

“Knew it was y’all!” she saluted them. “Recognize the purr of that engine anywhere!”

“How’s the boat?”

“Paw-paw’s tinkerin’ away. Reckon he’ll be tinkerin’ for some time,” she signaled them to follow her to the lighthouse.

“Trouble at sea?” Ignis inquired.

“Seen her share, by the looks of her. Some parts we can fix, others need replacin’. Paw-paw’s down at the dock. Now, if y’all’d excuse me, I’m gonna grad my tools and skedaddle. Got a garage to look after.”

Instead of walking them all the way to the top of the cliff, she bid them farewell at the door of the small house. Noctis noticed that Prompto remained behind, and stifled a smile when he noticed how the blond gunslinger let out a long sigh as he saw Cindy walking down the hill. He was half in the mood to tease him, but then he noticed Prompto’s heartbroken expression, so he just patted his back.

“Prince Noctis!” Talcott was calling. “Hey! Our house is over here!”

Monica and Dustin had put some order inside the aforementioned house, with the help of a very energetic Talcott. The door opened to a dining room, which could be used as a briefing room given the chance. Beyond the counter was the small kitchen with all the necessary utensils and, following up the steps, the different bedrooms, one of which was already prepared for the travelers.

The Crownsguards welcomed them with a smile. The two colleagues had made sure that the almost derelict house could be transformed in something resembling a home, and they made sure that young Talcott had enough tasks to keep his mind occupied. It was said that many a male Crownsguard was secretly envious of Dustin, who got to spend many hours in the company of Monica, famous for her homely, warm demeanor outside the battlefield.

Be as it might, the refuge was set, and the needs of the travelers tended to.

The ship’s repairing was another question. A special and rare ore was needed: mythril. Talcott had salvaged his grandfather’s diary like, and held it like a treasure. In that small pocketbook the old man had written down all the old legends which came to his knowledge. It was in that notebook that Talcott found out a possible location for the ore: North of the waterfall where they had discovered the royal tomb, tracing its source one could find a lake, the Vesperpool, and at its shore, ancient ruins where the precious ore had been stored a long time ago.

Monica had sent the Hunters to scout the region, and they had informed her that the road leading there was under imperial lockdown.

Visiting the lighthouse, they discovered that there was a lift leading to the top of the structure, and to the cliff below, where a secret harbor had been carved in the stone.

Cid was in the secret harbor, his work stopped until they could gather the ore. The boat was splendid, even without finishing, and it looked like a pleasure ship.

“Old girl’s sturdy enough,” Cid told them as he lovingly caressed the hull. “Not even an awful driver like Reggie could sink her.”

When they were preparing at the house for the travel, Gladio took Noctis aside.

“Gonna have to ask you to handle this boat business without me,” he said.

“Say what?”

“Got some business of my own to deal with.”

That was Gladio, never saying more than necessary. But there was one thing that Noctis knew, that his Shield would never leave him alone without a very good reason. He only had to trust him.

“Do your thing. Not like we could stop you anyway.”

“You know me too well,” Gladio smiled.

Noctis’ Shield packed his own things and rations, saying that he would travel light. He said goodbye to the memorial they had erected for Jared by the sea, kissed his sister goodbye, and hitched a ride north with one of the merchants who visited the zone, not without first asking his friends for no phone calls while he was away.

**Altissia.**

Lunafreya stood by the window, looking at the street. Altissia was a bustling city, living mainly from tourism and commerce. Even though the country of Accordo was a protectorate of the empire, they enjoyed a relative independence, and the imperial banners were nowhere to be seen.

There had been a minor setback when she and Gentiana arrived at the city and asked for an audience with the First Secretary. The guards didn’t believe her words until Gentiana made a subtle, yet convincing, display of magic. Recognizing the Messenger, the guards rushed the two women inside, but it wasn’t until much later that the First Secretary saw them.

Luna understood the fears of the old woman: Leviathan, Altissia’s guardian deity, slept under the waters of the bay. She was known for her wild and unforgiving nature, and seeking to forge a covenant would mean the total destruction of the city. It was a possibility the Oracle wanted to avoid at all costs.

There was also the problem of how the Secretary would handle the news that the Oracle had survived and was in Altissia. The woman wanted to keep Luna’s whereabouts secret as long as she could, for announcing her being alive and well would make the empire swarm her city and maybe place it on lockdown.

Luna knew she was a problem, no matter how one looked at it, but she had a mission, and she had to see it fulfilled.

Such had been her life: A constant menace for some, a beacon of hope for others. Her hand nursed her right wrist absentmindedly, as her mind tried to suppress those terrible first days of the imperial occupation. The abuse which that horrible man, Caligo Ulldor, inflicted on her; it wasn’t until she learned to hide form him and Gentiana gave the man a warning in the form of a spell, that he ceased his hunt for the young princess.

Then it came the days on which she was confined for her training. Luna could but watch the days unfolding behind a window, with her books and her Messengers as only companions. Ravus grew more distant by the day, and it came a point when she could barely recognize her brother. She pursed her lips, remembering how she didn’t cry that fateful night at Insomnia, when Nyx dragged her outside the palace and mentioned Ravus so carelessly.

Luna kept repeating to herself that they had more pressing matters at the time, and that she would have time to mourn later. However, she remembered with a pang of shame how she wept for King Regis while Nyx drove them on a desperate flight towards Insomnia’s gates. She even cried for Nyx in the days following Insomnia’s fall, when she described all that happened to Gentiana.

Now Ravus would come to the city and she would see him again. She was ready for his icy cold stare and his unfeeling words. She had grown used to them after seeing how hatred and despair had taken root on her brother’s heart, consuming him like the Scourge.

A child in the street waved merrily to someone she couldn’t see and ran towards that person. People lived happily there. According to the palace’s staff, her wedding dress was on display at the designer’s atelier, and people brought sylleblossom flowers as tribute. It was better that way.

Lunafreya still remembered the first day the dress arrived at the Manor. She wouldn’t stop gazing at it, caressing the soft silks, feeling butterflies in her stomach as she wondered how Noctis would react when he finally saw her, and how he would look at the wedding, dressed in the full dress uniform of Lucian royalty.

Her insecurities had taken over that day, but Gentiana assured her that king Regis and his son found solace in Tenebrae, not because of the Oracle, but because of Luna, who truly helped Noctis with his healing.

She had blushed then, smiling timidly.

 _“I have little to offer a king,”_ she said with modesty. _“Other than the voice afforded the Oracle. Nevertheless,”_ she added, her pale cheeks reddening deeper as she looked at the wedding gown. _“And… I’m afraid he might find this foolish. But… to be together with Noctis, again, even if only for a short while. It… would mean the world to me.”_

But soon her enthusiasm gave way to weariness, once the reality of what was to come settled in. She began to hate the dress, sitting at her room for days on end, tormenting her with its existence, a constant reminder of what would never be. A fitting. Another fitting. Her maids fawning over her. The finishing touch of the veil, or a crown of sylleblossoms, perhaps? It didn’t matter; she had to stand in front of the mirror and smile, letting the maids blame the bride-to-be’s nervousness for the Princess’ tears running down her cheeks. Or maybe it was tiredness, after spending the entire day healing an endless line of people coming from all around the world.

Now the dress was for everyone to see. It would have been a pity to condemn it to the darkness or a closet, and so the designer decided that her efforts would not go to waste. Luna had heard the gown brought many visitors to the atelier, and that people marveled at it. How ironic, that a wedding dress brought joy to everyone but the bride.

She turned away from the window when she heard the sound of Umbra’s paws. The leather book was intact and, inside, the firm handwriting of Noctis.

_“I received the blessing. Thank you Luna.”_

She touched the page as if she was caressing Noctis’ hand, as she had done so many times when the young prince was at her home, and she had to ease his night terrors.

Smiling, she closed the book without writing a single word. It was yet too soon for that message.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That last bit about Luna is me taking a very brief scene of Luna in Altissia just taking the notebook from Umbra, then me taking all the flashbacks and trying to make sense of what could have gone trough her mind at that moment.
> 
> Who knows? Maybe she was sad because she craved for some tacos and they didn't make them in Altissia.
> 
> Also, yay Aranea (wish I could write more about her).


	24. Party of Three

**BOOK 2: THE TALE OF THE CHOSEN KING  
**

**CHAPTER 12 – PARTY OF THREE**

Several days had gone by since Gladio set off for his personal quest and they could finally gather all the information they needed, from both the Hunters and the Crownsguard, to attempt an approach at the ruins.

The road leading to the Vesperpool area of the Cleigne region was a solitary one. There were no settlements up north in the swamps, only a fishing spot and a small shop near the road, south of the lake. Wild animals were sovereigns there, with rumors of having seen giant serpents of the Midgardsorm species roaming at dusk. It was also home to powerful daemons which, more frequently in later years, ventured beyond the borders and into the lands around Lestallum.

The heavy metal door opened as they approached. No halt, no question, and no soldiers nearby.

“Wait,” Prompto stammered. “What happened to _under imperial lockdown_?”

“They all but turned the key and left the gates open for us… as if awaiting our arrival.”

“And it anyone’s waiting for us, I bet it’s that guy.”

“Chancellor Izunia,” Ignis mumbled.

“Can’t complain as long as he lets us in,” Noctis said.

“Who’s to say he’ll let us out?” his retainer wisely pointed out. “Not to mention we’re a man down. Would that the marshal were with us.”

“Oh, yeah. Whatever happened to that guy?”

“As I understand it, he’s put his tomb raiding on hold to help the Hunters take care of some troublesome beast.”

“No rest for _the Immortal_ ,” Noctis quipped.

Once they crossed the tunnel and passed to the other side, the weather had changed drastically. If the sun shone at one side, fog and insistent rain met them at the Vesperpool. The road wound down from the mountain, but they couldn’t see beyond several meters away. It was when they finally reached the basin that they could see at least the outline of the trees over the water. It would have been a beautiful place, if not for the humidity and lack of visibility.

The road crossed the region north to south but kept to the east, leaving the lake west. The ruins they were seeking were not far from the main road, at the north side, leaning and burrowing into the mountain. They walked their way to the entrance, avoiding the local fauna when possible, and trudging slowly through the swampy terrain.

Half waiting for it, Noctis let out an exasperated sigh when he saw in the distance, right at the ruins’ door, an imperial assault craft.

Ardyn Izunia was waiting for them, a wide smile plastered all over his face.

“Gentlemen,” he greeted them. “What a pleasant surprise.”

“Ugh! Told you he’d be waiting,” Prompto said, not caring that the other might hear him.

“With my imperial friends, no less,” Ardyn pointed to the ship.

“Splendid,” Ignis’ sarcasm could have cut the dense fog. They all had spotted the armored lady which had attacked them at the base.

“But fear not, I’ll put in a good word. Come along, then.”

Noctis hated this situation. Ardyn popped up wherever they went and they could do nothing but do as he said.

“Don’t stray too far, lest you get left behind,” the man said. “And surely you’d rather avoid unnecessary scuffles, seeing as you’re now a trio.”

Ignis let out a sigh.

“Oh dear. Touchy subject?”

“One we won’t discuss with you.”

“Then let’s discuss why you’re here. Hmm… It can’t be archeology… Mythril, perhaps?”

“This guy’s reading our thoughts!” Prompto hissed to Noctis.

“Mythril… it’s a precious resource, you see,” the chancellor purred. “We can’t just let anyone get their hands on it.”

“But you’ll help us get ours on it, right?” Noctis ventured. There was also an implicit threat.

“I never said that!” Ardyn gasped dramatically.

“Of course you didn’t,” Prompto mocked his tone.

“Where is the fun in that? I thought you’d rather dig it up yourselves.”

Crossing more swampy terrain and walking through ferns and mossy fallen logs, they reached the entrance. The armored woman was waiting, arms crossed, with two human soldiers at each side.

“Fear not,” Ardyn told Noctis as he signaled them to let him walk ahead. “I’ll be but a moment.”

They saw how Ardyn came close to the woman. They interchanged some words, but no one could say if they were friendly or not. They were sure the woman had recognized them, but she didn’t make any sign of it, nor she gave her soldiers any order.

“All clear! Go ahead!” Ardyn yelled merrily from where he stood alongside the woman.

The woman was waiting for them with a coy smile. Night was falling and, now that she didn’t wear her helmet, the artificial light from the transport ship played on her silver hair.

“So, you’re the _new recruits_ they sent over for _special training_ ,” she stressed every word, as if she found that whole business most humorous. “Nice cover, runaway prince.”

Noctis said nothing.

“At ease, _recruits_ ,” she sighed, in response to Noctis’ sour face. “There’s nothing in it for this ex-mercenary to turn you in. Let’s get this show on the road.”

“Show?”

“Forgot about your _training_? Well, I’m being paid to escort you… Just watch yourselves in there.”

“I trust you’ll be civil,” Ardyn told them before saying to the woman: “Commodore Aranea Highwind, I leave them to you.”

And with that, Ardyn went away, as per his custom.

The Commodore informed them that the Solheim ruins could only open at dusk and they closed shut at dawn. They devised a plan on which they would take several days to reach to bottom. It would be a longer search, but Ignis refused to take any risk having to make camp inside the ruins. That day, however, they arrived just in time for the door to be operable, although they would have to wait a bit more.

“Illuminate!” Prompto yelled, turning his flashlight on.

“You’re such a nerd…” the prince chuckled.

If the ex-mercenary heard them, she made no sign of it. Instead, she walked them to where the entrance would be, only they could only see a solid wall.

“There’s a way in,” Prompto said. “I can smell it.”

“The empire sniffed it out ages ago. Wait ‘til nightfall, shortcake.”

As if listening to her, the hour came, and strange patters began to shine on the wall with a red luminescence.

The ruins weren’t as dark as they had expected. Even so, they kept their flashlights on in case they ran into daemons.

It didn’t take long, though. Aranea kept to her word, and fought skillfully at their side. Ardyn surely paid her a good sum of money.

“Daemons,” she spat, cleaning her lance from black miasma. “’Til death do us part.”

“Practicing your vows?” Ignis jabbed.

“The army swore their oaths a long time ago,” she said, paying no attention to Ignis’ caustic remark.

“What does the empire seek here?” now Ignis seemed quite intrigued by the woman’s words. Might as well learn whatever they could.

“Specimens… and we’re stuck harvesting them.”

“Specimens?” the gunslinger repeated with a shiver.

“Daemons. Turns out the empire makes weapons out of them.”

“ _Weapons?_ ” now the shiver was replaced by sheer incredulity.

“Yeah. I’m sure you’ve seen your share by now,” Aranea’s smug smile vanished and her face became pensive. “Something not quite right with the empire lately.”

“It’s not just lately,” Noctis pointed out.

“True. Maybe it’s time I left.”

“Really?” Prompto chimed in. “What would you do if you left the army?”

His two friends had to suppress the urge to roll their eyes. They knew Prompto: he was one wink from Aranea’s green eyes away from begging her to join their entourage.

“Whatever I want,” boasted the ex-mercenary. “I was a mercenary once. Maybe I’ll round up my men and hunt daemons for cash?”

“That’s a… heck of a plan,” said the blond, trying to hide his disappointment.

They kept walking down the ruins. Beyond the corridor, the view opened to a wide space surrounded by balconies, interconnected by stairs. The mythril they were seeking was at the bottom floor. However, it wasn’t the vastness of the room what caught their eye. They were under the lake, and it was its waters, instead of rock, what served as a roof, and what made the interior shine with a green-blue light. Noctis had been at the aquarium in Insomnia; there was a tunnel under the giant water tank and visitors could take a stroll while fishes of every size swam over their heads. It was the same feeling, only there was no security glass dividing air and water this time. Whatever achievements the Solheim civilization had reached, they would remain a mystery.

Even so, Prompto’ camera began snapping pictures. Noctis could swear he heard him mumbling something about showing them to Cindy.

Monsters appeared ahead. They sought to ambush the humans, but Aranea already knew the terrain and gained the upper hand.

“Mind if I finish this one off?” Aranea yelled at Ignis, who had frozen a gelatinous monster with a magic attack.

“No, but I’m loath to make a lady bloody her own hands.”

“Little late for that,” she smirked, already shaking the monster’s icy remains off her weapon and her armor.

By the time they had reached a deep level, Ignis gave the signal to return: Dawn would be upon them soon, and they were already tired. Aranea might have lasted a bit more, but the three of them had traveled for many hours before reaching the ruins, and pushing themselves too far wouldn’t have been a good idea.

It was overcast outside and it was difficult to see whether if the sun was really coming out or not, but the door closed shut once they all stepped outside.

The three friends went to a nearby campsite, not without Ignis inviting their escort to share a meal before resting properly.

While Noctis and Prompto were busy setting up the tents, the prince overheard his retainer having a talk with Aranea.

“Are there any ingredients you’d rather I avoid using?” he asked as he set up the cooking utensils. How courteous of him.

“Awww, well, aren’t you considerate?” the woman said playfully. “I’m good with anything. Surprise me, Four-Eyes.”

And so Ignis cooked a delicious meal. Not that his cooking had ever been below superb, but Noctis noticed something different. Perhaps it was the fact that Ignis usually didn’t cook for anyone besides the prince and his friends, and now that they had a “guest” he put an extra effort.

The Commodore downed the food while she had a long chat with them. She was an experienced soldier, and she had many anecdotes to tell. Soon Noctis saw Ignis strategy, in that he tried to coax a bit more of information out of that woman during the meal. Aranea was anything but stupid, though, and she skillfully dodged any question that could compromise the imperial army. As she told Ignis once between laughs: “Ask me when I’m out of the army, Four-Eyes.”

Overall, the prince had to concede that she was a quite agreeable, and that she could have been a valuable ally, had she been associated with Lucis instead of Niflheim.

The following afternoon, when they joined her at the ruins’ door, she still hadn’t forgotten about that morning’s meal.

“Hey, Four-Eyes,” she greeted them. “You’re a pretty good cook.”

“I take you enjoyed your meal, then?”

“I did,” she said, crossing her arms and taking a more professional tone. “Whaddya say to cooking for us? My men and I could use a personal chef.”

“Get our own,” Noctis jumped. “This one’s mine. I’ve got him on royal retainer.”

“And yet I haven’t seen a gil,” Ignis lamented, adjusting his glasses.

Aranea chuckled lightly. She was more than used to bantering and taking jabs from men, and few things fazed her.

They continued their travel inside the ruins. That day Aranea was more prone to talking and joking with them. Ignis was more talkative too, and Prompto… was Prompto.

Perhaps knowing that she wasn’t at ease with either the empire or the Chancellor had warmed them up to her. The best thing she had to say about Izunia was that the man gave her the creeps, and that she wanted him as far as possible from her.

There was also the fact that Ignis had the spear as his second weapon of choice, which he used quite skillfully. Finding a fellow lancer was a rare occurrence, since most people in Lucis either favored firearms or swords.

Either way, Noctis wasn’t surprised when Aranea offered Ignis to swap contact info with them, in case they needed her services once she was out of the army.

After some more fighting, they reached the bottom of the gigantic room.

A roar and a crackling sound shook the ground as a giant winged beast landed in front of them. A Quetzalcoatl, as Ignis informed him: a giant lizard which used lightning as his main means of attack.

Noctis had to put all his skills to good use. His warping ability was vital to their victory, as well as Aranea’s aerial skills. In the end it was a joint attack between the two of them what finished off the beast.

“Woohoo, we’re alive!” Prompto cheered. “Let’s celebrate by eating something dead!”

The mythril was at the back of the room. Several pieces of metal glinted, scattered, in a corner. Noctis feared they would need something to haul them all to the surface, but the ore was surprisingly light.

“Say, Commodore,” Prompto began saying on their way up.

“Aranea.”

“You said the empire uses daemons to make _weapons_?”

“Listen… you’ve seen magitek troopers, right?”

“MTs,” Noctis pointed out.

“They’re born from daemons, in a lab.”

“ _Born from daemons_ …” Prompto echoed. Suddenly he had become very pale.

“Darkness is coming,” she predicted. “If I were you, I’d watch my princely ass. Uh… _kingly_ ass.”

“Will do,” Noctis simply said.

The sky had cleared when they came out. Biggs and Wedge, Aranea’s men, were making all the preparations for their trip back to Niflheim.

“Congrats,” she told the three friends. “That concludes your _training_. You still got a hard path ahead, but don’t let anyone tell you how to walk it.”

“You might have been hired under false pretenses,” said Ignis. “But your assistance was invaluable all the same.”

“Hmph,” she smiled. “Tell me something I don’t know. You can spare the pleasantries.”

“Take care walking your path, Aranea,” he insisted.

“Oh, right. Thanks… I will,” Noctis could have sworn he heard her dropping her cool act entirely for just a second and that he saw her cheeks reddening slightly. However, he couldn’t be sure with the visor of her helmet down. “And I’ll _train_ you some more if our paths cross again. Oh, and before I forget… His Excellency instructed me to give you boys a ride back,” she pointed at the transport ship. “If you need a lift, feel free to hop on.”

They decided to rest that day and choose a destination in the afternoon. Nevertheless, a phone call from Cindy helped them make their minds: She had a friend working at Lestallum’s power plant, an engineer who could take care of the mythril.

It was decided, then. The empire had withdrawn from Lucis, strangely enough, and it was said that they were regrouping at the borders. They would only have to deal with small detachments until they could set sail.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And Aranea appears once more! It's a pleasure to write that character. One thing about Aranea and Ignis: Even though there's no official pairing for the two of them, she actually sounds flustered when Ignis displays his gentlemany charms near Lestallum. Doesn't have to mean anything, but she drops her cool act entirely. And I loved it.


	25. Episode Gladiolus

**BOOK 2: THE TALE OF THE CHOSEN KING  
**

**CHAPTER 13 – EPISODE GLADIOLUS**

It had only been two days since he left Cape Caem. Training on his own was boring, to say the least, given that the monsters in that area weren’t as strong as he had expected. Or maybe he had grown stronger. Sitting in the midst of a recent carnage, he let his sword rest at his side while the breeze refreshed his face. He felt good, but the pang nagging at him wouldn’t let go.

He wasn’t strong enough. That mercenary wench from the empire had mopped the floor with the whole group and, afterwards, that pompous Lord Ravus had appeared. Gladiolus still felt sick at the stomach when thinking about the Chancellor stepping in to avoid the fight. Next time it would be different.

His phone buzzed.

_“Gladio?”_

“Yeah… who do you think it is?”

_“Catch you at a bad time?”_

“Are you there yet?”

_“Yeah, I’m at the Crow’s Nest.”_

“Good. Thanks for agreeing to meet with me.”

_“Sure.”_

“So… Are you ready to move out?”

_“Of course. What about you? Are you mentally prepared?”_

“Of course. I’ll be right over.”

Gladiolus had grown up hearing stories of a place called the Tempering Grounds, where warriors would go to test their mettle against the Blademaster. No one had ever returned from that place. None except Cor Leonis. The marshal had ventured into the depths of the Tempering Grounds when he was fourteen and came out alive. That deed made him earn the moniker of The Immortal but, far from boasting about it, Cor never talked about what happened, or who was the Blademaster.

The marshal waited for him at the Taelpar Rest Area. It was a place Gladio had already seen on their way south to Cape Caem. Only two tables were occupied that morning, eating in silence while the radio announcer droned on about new regulations on the area. The empire had occupied Lestallum, and made sure that the people on that region knew who was calling the shots now.

Gladio spotted the black-clad figure of Cor sitting at the bar, nursing a cup of coffee.

“’Bout time,” said the older man, not turning to see him when the Shield sat at his side. Then he asked Gladio if he was ready to take on the Blademaster.

“I got against the High Commander and got my ass handed to me. I didn’t stand a chance. And I will never unless I get more power.”

“Then answer my question: are you ready or not?”

“You think I would’ve called you here if I weren’t?”

The marshal then turned to him.

“So you’re ready to face death?”

Gladio scowled. Dying wasn’t on his plans, not while he still had his duty as Shield. Cor’s piercing glance did not waver.

“Gilgamesh awaits challengers in the deepest recesses of those ruins,” the marshal said. “It’s been thirty years since we uncovered the caves. We’ve sent countless expeditions, but all of our efforts have afforded us no rewards… and no survivors.”

“Except for you,” Gladio pointed out. “You undertook the trial, and you made it back alive.”

Cor’s expression became even somber, and his eyes got lost at some point in the distance.

“Barely,” he murmured.

Then he got up and signaled Gladio to follow him.

There was a path between the rocky walls in the forest behind the rest area. The official information said that it came to a dead end, but Cor knew it lead to the entrance of the Tempering Grounds. One only had to know how to open it.

“Did you tell your friends why you were taking off?” the marshal asked Gladio as they made their way to the Grounds.

“Just said it was _business._ Didn’t want ‘em getting all worried about me.”

“Or knowing your pride took a beating.”

The path inside the Grounds was lit by torches. Under their light Gladio saw the cave strewn with mummified corpses of soldiers. Some were recent, but most of them wore uniforms and armors that Gladio had only seen in museums and History books. The stagnant air almost made him sneeze.

They reached a room of sorts. There the upper part of the cave opened and let the sunlight filter through the vegetation above. However, something in the cave made all the colors appear washed out and sickly.

As soon as the two men stepped closer to the room’s center, strange, wispy lights swirled around them, to then enter into the corpses, reanimating them.

As he battled the living dead, Gladio noticed that Cor kept himself mostly behind. It was fine: this was his test, and the marshal was there only as a backup.

The rest of the cave wasn’t very different from that first room: the wandering souls of the fallen warriors tested them constantly. What was worse, their voices didn’t stop taunting him as they walked in-between battles.

But the souls revealed they were there to test those determined to become the King’s Shield, and prepared them to inherit the power they pursued. They were the soldiers Gilgamesh had commanded in life, following the Blademaster beyond the grave to scare the unworthy away.

“Then they’d better prepare for disappointment,” Gladio boasted aloud. “I don’t scare easy.”

Following the path led them to a stream running down as the only means to reach the lower levels. Said stream led them to a pool where a giant serpent dwelled, not very different from the one they had to slay at the Greyshire Grotto’s entrance. However, there was something off about that animal, in that it seemed much weaker than its surface counterpart. Maybe the sunless environment had something to do with it.

Nevertheless, Cor helped Gladio during that fight, if only to prevent the younger warrior from being poisoned or too tired to continue.

Gladio cleaned his greatsword on the stream’s waters, but when he raised his head again the air felt suffocating, and the lights had dimmed so much he had difficulties getting his bearings. Cor had disappeared and, when Gladio tried searching for him, he saw a whirlwind of darkness forming outside the water, and a humanoid figure stepping out of it. It was a giant of a man, clad in heavy armor with a mask obscuring his face. He wielded a long sword on his right hand, and he was bereft of his left arm.

This one armed warrior stepped towards him, and the water didn’t ripple under his heavy feet.

“You come to prove yourself worthy of my mantle?” his eerie voice echoed through the chamber.

“I do,” said Gladio defiantly. “I am here to undertake the Trial of Gilgamesh.”

“And what is it you hope to glean?”

“Power… and you’re gonna give it to me.”

“Is that so?” Gilgamesh’s voice dripped with scorn as he lifted his sword.

Despite his bravado, Gladio could do little more than dodge the Blademaster’s attacks and block them with his shield. He didn’t give up, though, and kept resisting, but he was being slowly driven into a corner.

“Brute force alone does little to impress,” Gilgamesh scoffed at him while Gladiolus tried to parry one of his hits. “Only the one who possesses both muscle and mettle of equal caliber deserves the honor of fighting beside the Chosen King as his sworn Shield.”

The image of Ravus flashed before his eyes, flaring his wrath.

“You saying I don’t?” he grunted.

With a single push, Gilgamesh sent him rolling aside.

“A great evil threatens the people of your world,” the Blademaster said. “It is but the King of Kings and his Shield who can safeguard their lives. All those unworthy or unwilling to rise to the task meet their end here, by my blade.”

“I ain’t meeting mine any time soon,” Gladio declared. “This _trial_ hasn’t even begun.”

“If you do not fear death, then go forth with reckless abandon and prove your worth,” said the ghost, as it dissolved into darkness once more.

The air cleared and the lights returned. Cor had been standing by the water all that time, and when they were reunited, the marshal told him that a great cloud of darkness had formed just as the snake died, and that he couldn’t enter it, no matter how hard he tried.

The two men continued their travel until they reached a quiet area where they could rest. There Gladio told Cor about his encounter with the Blademaster.

“The Blademaster isn’t here to train you,” Cor told him when he finished. “He’s here to test you. He won’t go easy on you just because you joined the Crownsguard.”

“So, no mercy for newbies like me,” Gladio smirked, but soon he dropped it. “So what… the weak aren’t worthy of serving as Shield?”

“In his eyes, the weak aren’t worthy of living. All of them are fools, punished for aspiring beyond their station. I was a fool back then, too… and I was punished.”

“But you weren’t killed. Maybe you weren’t worthy of serving as Shield, but he must’ve seen you as worthy of living.”

“Maybe he did, maybe he didn’t,” Cor said cryptically, and didn’t speak anymore.

Once Gladio was rested enough they broke camp and continued their way through the cave. The path ahead was plagued with both wandering souls and daemons that the two warriors dispatched quickly, and the only concern on Cor’s mind was that their enemies tired out Gladio before his duel with the Blademaster. However, the young man was wise enough to his strength and still beat his adversaries.

Just like during his own trial, Gladio had to face three different enemies before seeing the Blademaster. It was a way to ensure only the very best would face him. After each battle he felt the new powers coursing through his veins, and wondered if Noct felt the same each time he claimed a weapon from his ancestors.

While they were resting after the first trial, on which he had to slain Enkidu, a winged beast, Gladio asked Cor about Clarus.

“My father never undertook that Trial of Gilgamesh, did he?”

“No. You wanna know why?”

“I do. I mean, it can’t be because he was scared, right?”

“Not of the Trial. He was scared of failing as leader of the Crownsguard… and as Shield of the King. He couldn't leave His Majesty alone, weakened by the Wall as he was. After all, what good is a Shield with no one to protect? What about you?” Cor asked. “Worried about leaving Your Majesty alone?”

“A little, but I’m gonna do what’s right for me like my father did what was right for him.”

When Gladio passed the second Trial against Innanduru, a daemon inhabiting the walls of the cave, a shapeless voice resounded in their heads while they made their way to the third Trial.

 _“Thousands set foot on these grounds,”_ said the voice. _“All of them fools, unprepared for the dangers lurking within. They all meet, with the same fate… as you will.”_

“I don’t think so,” Gladio replied.

_“Think what you may, but I know otherwise. The Lucis you call home is nothing like the Lucis I once served. Your age has forgotten the horrors of war, coddled by the king and drunk off the complacency of peace. No Shield worthy of defending the True King could be born from such depravity.”_

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

That was just a trick, Gladio told himself. Mind games to make him falter. But Gilgamesh didn’t know how stubborn Gladiolus Amicitia could be.

Just before reaching the third and final Trial against Humbaba, the Iron Giant, it was Cor the one who recounted his younger years while they rested at camp.

“Never thought I’d make my way back to the Tempering Grounds.”

“You said it’s been thirty years. Were you as _immortal_ then as you are now?”

“If you wanna know, I’ll talk,” he said.

Cor Leonis never spoke about his past or his private life. That he was willing to share anything about his younger years

“The Blademaster… what was he like?”

“I don’t remember much… except for those eyes,” for the first time since Gladio knew Cor, the older man looked haunted by the memories. “They pierced my heart and peered right into my soul. It was like he knew my every move even before I did. Try as you may, there’s no fooling those eyes.”

“We’ll see about that,” Gladio smirked.

Cor was silent from then on. After Gladio defeated Humbaba and acquired its power, they rested one last time before seeing the Blademaster. The young Amicitia was full of confidence, but the marshal saw that he had also learned to be prudent when asking the older man for advice.

“Well, what about you?” Gladio said. “I wanna know what was going through your head back then.”

“You that interested in me?”

“I mean, you were a lot younger than I am.”

“And a lot brasher, too, if you can believe it. Wouldn’t listen to a single word anyone said. I thought I was invincible,” the marshal said, his blue eyes lost in the bonfire. “No one could stop me… until he cut me down to size. I was cast out in defeat, my hubris laid bare for all to see. _You really_ are _immortal_ , they said… and it stuck.”

“That’s rough… Still, you made it back alive… something no one else had ever done… and I respect that.”

Cor said nothing to that. It was true that he came back, but the humiliation he felt those days was something he would never forget. With the passing of time he tried to understand the Blademaster’s logic, and guessed that perhaps a defeat was what Cor needed to keep learning, since it’s in defeat when one meets the hardest challenges.

On their way to the encounter with Gilgamesh, Gladio could hear the mysterious voice again.

_“Come here to die, have you?”_

“You looking to die again?”

_“You amuse but do not impress. You lack his conviction.”_

“Whose?”

_“He who traversed these caves some thirty years ago. Turning a deaf ear to our wails and wishes, he proceeded unfazed, eyes ever forward.”_

So Cor Leonis had made an impression on these souls, after all. It was difficult to imagine him as a brash young man. He must have been a handful back in the day. He looked back at the marshal, but he made no sign of having heard the voices.

Reaching a wall of stone, Cor made Gladiolus step aside. Planting his feet firmly on the ground, the marshal raised his katana and presented it. As if it was a command, the wall parted and the path was clear.

“Clarus would have tried to stop you, you know… just like he tried to stop me all those years ago.”

“How come?”

“Because one aspiring to the role of King’s Shield can stake his life for none but his liege… not even for himself.”

The marshal turned to him, fixing a meaningful glance on him.

“ _Do you dare risk all for naught in return?_ His words stayed with me. And he was right: I barely made it back with nothing to show for it.”

“So, you gonna stop me?”

“No, I won’t. But I will warn you one last time of the danger you’re about to face… just like your father warned me. Once you set foot through that door, there’s no turning back… and no one to help you if you fall. One false step, and it may prove your last.”

“I’ll be fine,” he simply said, walking past the marshal. “Maybe I’ll come back with a souvenir.”

“Just come back alive. Be safe, Gladio.”

The path to the duel grounds was clear of any daemon or lost soul. Suddenly the cave opened to reveal a chasm, with a natural rock bridge connecting the two halves. Gladiolus could see the whole bridge strewn at each side with swords driven into the hard rock, as silent testimonies of all the failed aspirants. He walked slowly amongst that graveyard to the center of the bridge. There it was the Blademaster, waiting for him.

“I’m here,” the Shield announced.

“Brandishing your brute force?”

“Yeah. Let’s see if you can handle it.”

The souls he had acquired gave him strength and the ability to parry and stop Gilgamesh’s attacks. Nevertheless, the Blademaster was more powerful than Gladio could have predicted. The previous encounter had been a mere test, and now he was going for the kill.

“You only delay the inevitable, O Unworthy One. Look how you tremble!”

“I ain’t afraid of you.”

“With every passing second, the fear in your heart grows greater still!”

“So what do I do? Just roll over and die?”

“Blind reliance on strength alone reveals your weakness of will,” Gilgamesh lowered his sword for a moment and glanced around. “Countless disappointments met their end here, and so shall you!”

“No,” said Gladio, preparing himself for the upcoming attack. “I didn’t come here to die. I came here to prove to you I’m worthy!”

Gilgamesh’s words had fueled him further. His attacks became stronger, but he also began to measure his timing. The Blademaster was powerful but also graceful on his movements, something Gladio had never been, and he switched his fighting styles with an astounding ease. Nevertheless, Gladiolus worn his opponent out, and, as he found at long last an opening at the Blademaster’s left, he put all his might on the blow. However, a ghostly light appeared, and Gilgamesh stopped the attack with a phantasmagorical hand. Gladio drew his weapon back with a gasp.

“You are strong… yet so long as fear binds your heart, the power you possess is wasted on you.”

As the Blademaster said this, he looked as his now appeared hand. He dismissed the long sword, and summoned a long katana, the longest Gladio had ever seen. As Gilgamesh took a fighting stance, wielding his weapon two-handed, Gladio understood that the real fight was about to start.

“I’ve still got a few tricks up my sleeve, too,” Gladio murmured. “Ain’t no way I’m backing down now!”

But he had a hard time even dodging the attacks. He raised his shield and ducked, but little he could do as Gilgamesh’s katana sung in the air.

It was with great effort that he could bring the fight to a stall, and with even greater effort, born from his desperation, that he slowly got the upper hand.

Gilgamesh parried a low blow and, with a flicker of his wrist, he slashed from side to side. Gladio dodged just in time, and felt the blade dangerously near his eyes.

The sun had set, and the light from the crystal structures surrounding the bridge gave the scene an unnatural feeling. Gladio didn’t notice anything. He felt nothing, save the rushing of adrenaline. All his senses were in the fight and his rival, knowing that one fraction of a second would be enough for him to die.

At long last, Gilgamesh seemed to falter, and it was time for Gladio to deliver a powerful attack with all his might.

“I kneel before _no_ man!” he yelled, as he delivered his blow.

Gilgamesh wobbled and fell to his knees. The fight was over.

It was when Gladio could catch his breath that he noticed the cut on his forehead. He chuckled, feeling it with his fingers. There was another one crossing his torso. The Blademaster’s sword was so sharp it hadn’t drawn blood.

“Not the souvenir I had in mind,” Gladio said. He then looked at the Blademaster. “It took me a while, but I realized something: you’re right… I am afraid. Afraid of accepting the fact that maybe I’m not cut out for the job I’m expected to do. But hey, at least I’m not walking away empty-handed. I’d better get going. I may be all muscle and no mettle, but I’m gonna keep protecting Noct the only way I know how.”

The Blademaster chuckled, getting to his feet.

“Spoken like a true Shield of the King. Fear and doubt beget death alone. He who averts his gaze from his own faults cannot himself a true Shield call, but you… having made peace with your inner self… have proven you are worthy. The chosen King should be so fortunate as to have a man like yourself serving at his side.”

“You mean…?”

Gilgamesh raised his katana again, but this time he presented it to Gladiolus.

“And with this glaive, I entrust my power to you.”

When he approached, Gladio could have a closer look at the katana. It was a beautiful work of art, not as old as the Blademaster, but definitely from well before Gladio’s time. It wasn’t only the superb craftsmanship what caught his eye, however: wrapped around the guard was a 108 beads rosary, and the symbol of the Crownsguard adorned it.

“Where did you…?”

“Taken from the young man who impressed me with his strength of will. It was with this very blade he stole from me my arm.”

“But… I can’t accept this.”

“If he still walks among the living, a man of his mettle will have doubtless transcended attachment to mere material possessions.”

Gladiolus smirked. That old scoundrel could wield a six-foot blade at fourteen. Clarus didn’t exaggerate when he said that Cor was something else.

“You’re probably right. In that case, don’t mind if I do.”

“Now, hasten forth… With mind unclouded by doubt and will unmoved by fear,” Gilgamesh then gazed at the last lights of the day. “The Last King of Lucis is ill fit to fight without his Shield.”

Gladio nodded, suddenly feeling as if a heavy weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

“Thanks again,” he said, turning away with his rewards.

Cor was pacing back and forth where they had parted ways. His frown changed to a gesture of surprise when he heard Gladio’s heavy footsteps.

“You made it,” he almost exclaimed.

“Sure did.”

“And so quickly. I’m impressed.”

“Brought this back with me,” Gladio presented the katana to Cor. “Figured you might get a kick out of it.”

The marshal hadn’t noticed it, and now he simply smiled with the long-forgotten memories the blade brought back.

“I wondered where I put that thing,” he joked, still gazing at the blade, and then he looked at Gladio, understanding that he was offering him the sword. “Keep it. Makes a better souvenir than that scar.”

It took them the whole night to walk out of the cave and when they did, the sun was high in the sky. The breeze was fresh and comforting after the stagnant atmosphere of the Tempering Grounds, and it didn’t reek of rotten flesh.

“Y’know,” Gladio mentioned off handedly. “He mentioned he lost his arm in battle with a real hot-heated young lad back in the day.”

“That so?”

“Whoever it was left a lasting impression on him. Talked about how the guy had the strongest will he’d ever seen.”

“Takes more than will to complete the trial. You need to wield your weapon with a primal finesse. If you fail to prove your might, you get cast out empty-handed.”

“I dunno. He didn’t seem to think the guy would let it bother him. Said the guy’s too old to care about material things anymore… if he’s still alive.”

They parted ways when they reached the Crow’s Nest, but not before Cor shared with him some final thoughts.

“I hope you feel more confident in light of your success today. Few men can lay claim to such accomplishment… not even Cor the Immortal.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t earn myself a badass nickname like he did,” at that, Cor couldn’t suppress a smile. “Still, I’m glad I went through with it. I can finally say I’m truly ready to fulfill my duty.”

“Good.”

“Well, I guess this Shield better mosey on back to his King. Wouldn’t want him to get scared without me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Episodes DLC are also included in the novella! I had a bit of a hard time deciding where to unclude some of them, but I think I could get an acceptable flow in the end. A bit of warning if you have played through the DLCs: There are some scenes in those DLCs which spoil the ending, thus they won't be included. Also, alternate endings won't be included because this work strictly follows the canon story.


	26. Reunion

**BOK 2: THE TALE OF THE CHOSEN KING  
**

**CHAPTER 14 – REUNION**

“Rise and shine, Prince Charming. We’re here.”

Aranea’s voice woke him up. It was nowhere near sunrise, but she informed them they had reached Lestallum. The assault craft’s doors opened. They were at the entrance of the power plant.

“Sounds like a spot of trouble’s popped up at the power plant,” the Commodore sighed dramatically. “Wish I could help, but I’m powerless to do anything I’m not ordered to. I’ll leave the keeping of the peace to you.”

“Of course,” said Ignis, already preparing his daggers.

“We got this,” Prompto sighed in resignation.

“Good luck, boys,” she wished them sincerely.

There was, indeed, a source of trouble at the plant. Somehow, there had been a daemon outbreak which threatened the security of the entire complex. All personnel had been evacuated, and they had called for the Meldacio League for help. However, fireproof suits were scarce and they only had one to spare. They decided that Noctis was the best suited for that task.

“Lovin’ that outfit, Noct!” Prompto catcalled as the prince adjusted his helmet.

“Why don’t you wear one?”

“Well,” said Ignis. “That’s the only one. And if anyone stands a fighting chance in there, it’s you. Forget about fashion and go.”

It was good that they couldn’t see his face inside the helmet. The special crystal was a perfect mirror to the outside viewer, but it let the wearer see the outside world without an issue.

 _“Testing!”_ Holly’s voiced sounded through the radio. _“Do you read me? Just wanted to thank you for offering to clear out those daemons! That’ll give me time to treat this mythril for you. There’s a hunter who went in right ahead of you. I imagine there’re too many for one to handle… but the two of you should be fine. And a little heads-up: we’re getting some unstable readings from the generators inside. Too much power and the whole place could blow, so be quick!”_

Great: A race against the clock. As if he needed more pressure.

There was a figure by the power plant’s main access, clad in the same special suit, but much taller than him.

“So, you my backup?” the hunter asked with a gruff voice.

“I thought we were partners.”

“Anyway, place is crawling with daemons.”

“Wait a sec. You sound familiar.”

“Save the talk,” the man cut him. “We got hunting to do. Now, if we’re done with the introductions, follow me.”

The inside of the power plant was a vast space, but what caught Noctis attention was the blast of heat he felt, even with the protection from the fireproof suit. He heard the cackling and chattering of small, humanoid daemons and knew what the trouble was about.

Goblins were weak, but they had an infuriating ability to sabotage installations and means of transport. There had been many a derailed train because of those monsters, and many a city deprived of power after they destroyed some high-voltage towers.

“There they are,” said the hunter, hefting his greatsword. “You ready to rumble?”

“Oh yeah,” Noctis readied his own weapon and grinned. That was one greatsword he could recognize anywhere.

Noctis could feel the beads of sweat rolling down his face as he fought. Lesser daemons were nothing but a nuisance, but in big numbers they could fell a seasoned warrior.

“Some pretty fancy moves you’ve got there,” said the hunter. “Reminds me of a certain King I know.”

“Fancy that,” Noctis huffed, cutting down a monster. “Not too shabby yourself. You’d make a good sparring partner.”

“You think so?”

His radio crackled and Holly’s urgent voice came through.

_“Red alert, you two! We’re detecting a major power surge! She’s gonna blow! Abort the mission and get outta there!”_

“I ain’t one to leave unfinished business,” the hunter grunted. “Can’t speak for him, though.”

“Then allow me: _I’ve got this,_ ” Noctis bragged.

“Well how ‘bout you prove it?”

“Gladdy!”

As Holly said, the heat was rising dangerously. The hunter cleaved his way through the monsters, but it was Noctis the one to finish off the straggled ones. It wasn’t until they stopped hearing the chattering that they stood still, listening.

“That all of them?” Noctis murmured.

“Think so.”

“Nice job,” the prince said, unsummoning his blade. “You didn’t disappoint.”

“When have I ever?” the hunter asked, unsummoning his own weapon.

Noctis chuckled.

“Keep it up.”

“Will do. Now let’s scram.”

When they got out of the facility the sun was already out. Gladiolus took out the helmet, flashing one of his trademark grins.

“Great work in there!” Holly congratulated them. “As promised, here’s your mythril. And thank you for your hard work.”

“Sure,” said Gladio, tossing the fireproof boots in the box Holly had pointed them to.

The woman had stored the treated ore in a security box. Transport would be faster, and Cid would have an easier time working with it.

“Hey, big guy!” Prompto greeted the Shield.

“So the _hunter_ who went ahead…”

“The one and only. How ya been fellas?”

“Not bad. Woah…” the gunslinger exclaimed, finally noticing the new scars. “Someone did a number on you, though.”

“You should see the other guy,” he said, puffing out his chest. “Anyway, I’m back and better than ever.”

They hung out at the power plant for a while, waiting for Dustin and Iris to take the ore ahead to Cape Caem. The first one to arrive was Iris, who ran straight to her brother and gave him a hug.

“Noct? Gladdy! I can’t believe it!”

“Hey,” the Shield resisted Iris’ tackle and hugged her back. “Thanks for looking after her, Dustin.”

The older man smiled, nodding.

“So, Gladdy,” Iris chimed in, releasing his brother. “Did you apologize to Noct for storming off like that?”

“He made it up to me in there,” said the prince, pointing back to the power plant.

They gave the mythril to Iris and Dustin, and the two of them went away, not without the young girl warning Gladio to never do that to Noctis ever again.

“Anything happen while I was gone?” the Shield asked as they made their way to the Regalia.

“Yeah,” said Noctis. “The car got roomier.”

“Smart-ass…”

The group had enough free time until Cid had the boat ready, and that meant they could go hunting and visiting more of the lost tombs the Meldacio League had discovered. The nearest would be a tomb sitting on the Vesperpool

On their way to the Vesperpool, they decided to make camp where, as a welcome party of shorts, Ignis cooked the Shield’s favorite meal. Later, sitting around the bonfire with a cup of coffee, it was time for the stories.

“I’m stuffed,” Gladio said, trying not to burp. “My compliments to the chef,”

“My pleasure. Did you enjoy your time with the marshal?”

Gladio nodded, stealing a glance towards the katana propped against his chair.

“So, uh,” Prompto started. “What’s that thing on your face?”

“This?” Gladio pointed to the new scar on his forehead with a smile.

“Yeah…” said Noctis while he played on his cellphone. “X marks the spot.”

“Just a scratch. The other guy got off a lot worse.”

“Worse than looking like some kind of thug?” Noctis joked, his eyes still glued to the screen.

“Speaking of which, who was this _other guy_?” Ignis asked.

Gladiolus started his tale of Gilgamesh, the Tempering Grounds, and all the things he and Cor found there. Ignis listened in respectful silence, but Prompto flinched at every dangerous and scary part. Gladio made sure the resurrected warriors sounded more terrifying than they really were.

“So _that’s_ how you got it,” the gunslinger marveled when Gladio finished his tale.

“Waddaya think?” he asked, leaning forward so they could see it better in the firelight.

“Very perpendicular,” said Prompto. “Really complements the one you got when you saved Noct from that bully.”

“Yeah. Only difference is, this time, I ended up taking a pretty bad beating, too.”

“Not unlike the licking the marshal received back when _he_ was a lad,” Ignis pointed out.

“Musta have a lotta guts to go up against Gilgamesh back then,” Prompto mused.

“Yeah, Dad said he used to be a real firecracker.”

“The more you know…”

“If the Blademaster sequestered himself during the Founder King’s reign,” Ignis pondered. “Then he’s haunted those halls for some two millennia.”

“That’s a long time,” Noctis sighed.

“All those years waiting for the chose King to arise,” Gladio chuckled. “You sure know how to take your sweet old time.”

“What can I say? I’m worth that wait.”

“Gimme a break,” Prompto wailed.

“And I, as well,” Ignis pleaded.

“Just because you’ve got a Shield to protect you now doesn’t mean you get to slack off,” Gladio warned Noctis, but then he chuckled. “But if you do,” he said, looking at the katana. “I’ll be ready.”


	27. Marshes and Mines

**BOOK 2: THE TALE OF THE CHOSEN KING  
**

**CHAPTER 15 –** **MARSHES AND MINES**

The landscape slowly transformed from the bright greenery of Duscae to the earthy tones of the Leide region. It offered a stark contrast with the rainy marshes of the Vesperpool, and a welcome change for the four friends.

According to the Hunters, there was an ancient Tomb south of the Vesperpool, deep into the forest. The information was accurate, except that said tomb was deeper than they had anticipated. Being an uninhabited zone all manner of savage creatures roamed through the forest and, far from being shy towards the travelers, all the species seemed to have put behind their natural differences for that day and agree that the four humans traversing their lands looked quite appetizing.

If wild beasts weren’t enough, they had been seriously warned about overstaying past dusk, for there was an especially vicious Daemon which appeared in that area, and which seemed to prey only on male travelers.

It wasn’t a king the one interred in such remote place, but the only Queen who ever sat at the Lucian throne: Crepera Lucis Caelum, who saw herself inheriting the crown after her father and older brother perished. Far from favoring either swords or lances, Crepera used a giant four-points star which she threw with the grace of a dancer. She never showed her face in public once she ascended to Queen due to the time’s distrust about having state affairs in the hands of a woman. Despite this, she led her nation through a grave crisis, and her success was praised for years to come.

But the friends didn’t tarry too much on that tomb, never mind that Noctis had always been curious about that Queen. He claimed the ancient weapon, they made haste back to the Regalia, and then they were more than glad to leave the Vesperpool, its muddy shores, its mosquitoes and its poisonous fauna behind.

The nearest cluster of civilization was the Meldacio League HQ, beyond the northern Vesperpool gate. There was a haven near the fishing spot at the western side of the lake, but the constant rain would have guaranteed a soaked, cold tent and the impossibility to cook anything. Even Gladio agreed in that it was better to step on the gas and risk the incoming darkness if that meant having a hot shower, a warm dinner and a dry bed at the end of the road.

Now they were on their way to Leide, once again and, as Noctis expected, Prompto was acting more energetic than usual, which was quite the feat.

Soon they saw the familiar shape of the Hammerhead, shining with warm colors under the last lights of the day.

Their next destination would be the abandoned mines of Balouve. Decades back those mines had been the main source of ore for construction material in Insomnia. However, when daemons appeared and made their nesting ground there, the mines had to be abandoned for good and, with that, all the settlements around them became ghost towns.

But before venturing into the depths of the earth, they would make a stop for the night. Not at the Hammerhead, much to Prompto’s chagrin, but at a haven on their way to the mines.

Despite the setback, the gunslinger had his plans. That night, while Gladio and Ignis busied themselves preparing dinner, Prompto approached Noctis and begged the prince to accompany him the next morning.

What the prince didn’t know was that the following day his friend would wake him up well before dawn, just when the light was strong enough for the daemons to go back to their lairs.

“What’s this _thing_ you’ve got, anyway?” he yawned, rubbing his eyes.

“Well, it’s not a _thing_ ,” his friend said, leading the way to whatever it was the place he wanted to go. “It’s a picture.”

“Uh-huh…”

“In honor of the grease-monkey goddess…”

“Huh? Who?”

“Cindy!” Prompto exclaimed, as if his poetic description had been a dead give away. “I wanna express my love on film.”

“Dude!”

“No, no, no… not like a stalker or something,” he waved his hand. “Just an innocent display of affection.”

“ _Innocent_ ,” Noctis echoed I a deadpan tone.

“So,” Prompto continued, completely ignoring his friend shaking his head in disbelief. First we find a spot overlooking Hammerhead. Then, we bow our heads in deference to the Garage of Our Goddess.”

The prince had to suppress the urge to roll his eyes. He could have sworn he _heard_ the capital letters on that title.

They were walking northwards until Prompto led Noctis to a small hill overlooking the road and, at the other side, the Hammerhead station. That was their destination.

“Why don’t you just ask her for a picture?” Noctis asked.

“No way! That would be creepy!”

Once they climbed the hill, Prompto stepped forward to the edge of the promontory.

“I got this! First, to pay my respects,” Prompto bowed deeply, looking towards Hammerhead. “O Great Garage, Home to Our Goddess of the Gears, thank you-”

“That the prince I see?” said a cheerful voice behind them.

Noctis spun around to see Cindy, who had snuck up on them.

“C-Cindy?” Prompto stammered from his worshipping spot.

“You’re not supposed to-”

“Just on one of my early mornin’ hikes,” she said, ignoring the young men’s surprised expression. “Girls’ gotta stay fit, y’know!” the she looked around her. “Ain’t it beautiful up here? One of my favorite spots. What’re y’all doin’ here?”

“Us all? Oh, yeah, w-well… you’ll see…” Prompto began stammering an excuse. As quick as he was with his guns and his mind in the face of peril, he would always become tongue-tied when trying to talk to a girl, though with Cindy it seemed to be a specially bad case.

Remembering how every case had ended in the past, Noctis stepped up and whispered an excuse for him.

“We’re on a hike, just like you,” he said. It could have been a perfect excuse, hadn’t he delivered it with such a stiff demeanor. But what can you do when anxiety gets the better of you?

“Well, I’ll be,” she beamed at him. “Couple of early birds, ain’t ya?”

Noctis decided then and there that Cindy wasn’t oblivious: Prompto’s way of acting had to be so common each time a young man interacted with her that she must have assumed that being inarticulate was just part of their normal conduct.

Another excuse, hurriedly whispered. This time, thank the Six, Prompto could add something of his own.

“Oh, y-you know! I’m an avid photolog. When I get the chance, I’m off hiking and taking pictures!”

That was better. Talking about photography seemed to loose his tongue a bit. His voice kept quavering, though.

“Fancy that. What’re ya snappin’ today, Mr. Cameraman?”

Noct intervened again, hoping that his friend didn’t misheard and ruin everything.

“Wanna catch your ol’ Paw-paw taking a nap-nap?” Prompto said, perhaps not very convinced. It was Noctis’ gamble that a bit of humor might work.

And it did. Cindy laughed, quite prettily, the prince had to admit.

“That sounds funnier’n a moogle in a chocobo race. Lemme see!”

The girl went for the camera, but Prompto had to admit that he was yet to take the picture.

“Bet it’d look even better with the two of you in the shot,” said Noctis aloud. “What do you say?”

His friend stammered something, but Cindy clapped her hands.

“That’s a mighty fine idea!” she said, and gave Prompto a light slap on his arm. “C’mon, the light now’s perfect!”

Noctis had to bite his lips lest he would laugh out loud: Prompto’s hands trembled when he gave him the camera.

It was difficult to get the two of them together, but Noctis did what he could, directing his friend to step closer, and praying Prompto’s knees didn’t give in. Cindy obliged, stepping so close her jacket grazed the gunslinger’s arm. Noctis shot the photo just then, when his friend’s face blushed to the roots of his hair, and he was flashing the happiest smile Noctis had ever seen on him.

Cindy thanked them and returned to the garage, reminding them that they were welcome any time they wanted to visit. Prompto didn’t say a word: he was still blushing and grinning and waved enthusiastically as the girl went away.

Then he sighed.

“To think the goddess graced us with her presence…” he said dreamily.

“And what an honor it was,” the prince remarked.

They made their way back to camp in silence, through Noctis noticed Prompto’s steps were lighter and quicker, and the prince shook his head when he heard his friend humming a happy song from time to time.

“All right,” he glowed once they were near the camp. “Mission accomplished!”

“Thanks to who?”

“My hero, Noct!” he laughed.

Gladio and Ignis were occupied with preparing breakfast, and to their questioning, Noctis offered an excuse about doing exercise. Gladio didn’t seem to buy it but said nothing.

Once their bellies were full, Ignis directed them to entrance of the mines, towards the south.

Following a dirt road with the Regalia, they saw rails coming out from the mine’s entrance. Atop the rocky walls and lumbering over the entrance, metal structures which served back in the day as platforms to manage machinery that no longer existed and, in the entrance, over the fence which served as access door, giant gas pipes slowly eroded with the desert winds.

The door fence was wide open, and many posters warned of “varmints” and daemons to the occasional explorer who dared to approach the place.

Following one set of rails led them to another fence, also open, which led them to the entrance. The rails died some meters into the cave and an old lift was the only access to the levels below.

“It’s up and running,” Noctis announced, when he pushed a button and the lift’s gears squealed as if in protest.

“This thing’s ancient,” Prompto protested, as he looked warily at the lift. “You sure it’s safe?”

Truth be told, the rusted metal encasing the whole machinery didn’t do much to assure any user of it’s security. When the doors slid open, they did so with such a high-pitched screech they had to cover their ears.

“Only one way to find out,” Gladio said, confidently striding inside.

The inside wasn’t much better. The walls weren’t solid, but made of thick fence which left the cage open. This prevented suffocation in case of accident, but also gave a measure of how deep down the tunnels went, as one saw layer after layer of solid rock passing by.

“All aboard, huh?” Prompto quipped nervously. Pearls of sweat had begun to form on his brow.

“What? Afraid it can’t take our weight?” Gladio smirked mischievously.

“More likely to become stuck,” Ignis commented, observing how some segments on the mountain walls had loosened. Any small boulder could wedge itself along the shaft and stop the lift for good.

“I can live with stuck,” the gunslinger said stubbornly.

“This thing’s been around a while,” Noctis said casually.

“I can only guess when they began mining here,” Ignis touched the rusty fence. His gloved became stained in red.

“Know what sorta place is this?” Prompto asked, trying to divert he conversation from the lift.

“The sort that’s infested with bloodthirsty daemons,” Gladio quipped. “Am I warm?”

“Red hot, I’d say,” Noctis answered.

“Gimme a break!” Prompto exclaimed.

The lift finally stopped with a final creaking and, after the doors opened with a loud screech, all was silent. The four friends stepped lightly along the tunnel. Despite al the years it had been inactive, the walls were almost in perfect condition. Mining carts stood there, empty and discarded, and metal container lined up alongside the rails. Their torchlights did little to see ahead, and they strained their senses to avoid being ambushed.

The tunnel made a slight curve to the right. Light entered through giant ventilation shafts, whose fans were now motionless.

As soon as Noctis stepped into the light, the fans began to move. Prompto gave a brief yelp before he covered his mouth.

“Anyone heard that rumbling?” he asked, his fright suddenly forgotten.

They could hear it now over the noise from the fans. It was approaching.

“Something’s coming our way!” Ignis warned.

They jumped out of the rails just in time for a mining cart to pass by at full speed, to then crash noisily against far ahead. After some moments, they resumed their march, but with even more care this time.

The tunnel ended abruptly as they reached another lift like the one at the entrance, but instead of taking it, they found a small tunnel which wound its way to the level below. Unlike the previous one, the tunnels there were raw, with no rails and water dripping constantly from the ceiling.

All their senses were focused on what would lie ahead. From time to time they could hear what they though as the shuffling of small feet, but their flashlights couldn’t help them locate the source of the sound.

Following the rails, they reached what looked like a bridge over a chasm. More giant fans recycled the air there, somewhat alleviating the oppressing heat.

Prompto suddenly yelped and pointed ahead.

Under the flickering light, a humanoid figure approached them from the other side of the bridge. As it approached, they noticed with alarm that it was unnaturally tall. A rumbling sound came from behind it, and it didn’t seem to affect the stranger, until the creature stepped at one side.

“Move aside!” Gladio warned.

The humanoid sidestepped just in time for a cart to pass by at full speed. This time they could see imps riding the cart, but they were more focused on not falling off the bridge.

Noctis jumped back to the center of the rails, and summoned his sword just in time for the creature to slash at him. For it was a powerful daemon what had appeared before them, the one who had taken residence in the mines so many decades back, and the one who lorded over the imps.

The prince parried the sword, but the attack had been so sudden and so strong that he lost his footing for a moment. Another slash and he was sent tumbling backwards and into the abyss.

The chasm wasn’t too deep, and Noctis landed without any major injury, but he was quickly surrounded by a horde of imps. His friends didn’t lose time and followed him, but not before Noctis was wounded and almost overwhelmed.

Once the imps were either killed or scattered, Ignis treated the prince’s wounds and they tried getting their bearings.

The chamber they had landed into wasn’t at the lowermost level. Following the tunnels led them to more stairs and more chambers. And more imps. Between the four friends they could make short work of the monsters, but the sheer number of enemies was worrying.

The level below the one with the chamber didn’t have rails and the walls were crudely dug. Metal catwalks continued the path over the many chasms, but those were the only signs of human technology they could see. Imps were more numerous, and the almost total darkness made them more vicious than ever.

They found the lift at the end of one of the galleries, and they knew they were at the bottom level of the mines, and not the one where the daemon lived. Ignis suggested climbing up to the level where the monsters had ambushed them at the bridge.

There was a long tunnel at the other side of the bridge and, after twisting and turning they way through the tunnels, they came upon a pit. Metal platforms and stairs gave access to the walls around it and to the bottom of the chasm through several levels. The same generators which powered the fans also shed light around them. It was as if the daemons only switched them on so their prey could harbor some hopes before hunting it down.

As they made their way down, Noctis noticed that the figure stood at the bottom of the pit, as if waiting for them.

“Time to settle the score. Huh, Noct?” said Gladio.

“You bet it is!” Noctis prepared his sword. But instead of warping to strike at it, he waited until Ignis could take a glance at the monster, and also because he suspected that the imps were nearby, waiting for him to rush forward.

The imps didn’t take long to appear. Frustrated that their prey was more clever than them, the little monsters jumped on them not sooner they had reached the bottom. Easy to kill as they were, they were the perfect distraction for the daemon swordsman to get the upper hand on the combat.

It was by chance that they discovered the daemon’s weak point. Prompto threw a lightning grenade towards the swarm of imps surrounding the swordsman, and the monster fell to its knees as the energy arced around its body. Gladio then kept the daemon at bay while Prompto felled the imps and both Noctis and Ignis attacked with magic.

When the swordsman finally disappeared in a pool of black miasma, the prince looked around him. The remaining imps scattered, frightened that those humans had killed their boss, and they were finally left alone in the pit.

Ignis nursed a deep cut on his left arm. Blood soaked his clothes and Gladio had to tend to his wounds.

“You think he was guarding the tomb?” Prompto asked, rubbing his face after an imp had kicked him.

“The Hunters’ intelligence left no doubt,” said Ignis, still wincing despite the effects of the potion. “Let’s have a look around.”

Tired as they were, they started looking for some crevice or some access of any kind. Noctis found one, between two blocks of stone on one of the terraces. Squeezing their way through, they discovered another path ahead. This one didn’t seem to have been carved with modern tools, and it branched off some ways ahead. There was a strange door to the left, much bigger than the ones guarding the tombs. It was closed and the key Noctis carried didn’t fit.

Tracing their steps back and taking the path to the right, the friends finally found the door.

“Makes the hassle worthwhile,” said Gladio.

The four companions all thought the same: What if after all that fighting there was nothing at the end. Thankfully that wasn’t the case, and Noctis could claim the weapon from his ancestors: A ballista, which was said to have been the weapon of a king skilled both in intellectual and martial arts, thus called “The Clever”.

Nevertheless, after spending the whole day running around an underground maze, not even Ignis cared much about historical notes, and they all made haste towards the exit.

There was a haven near the mine’s entrance, but Noctis decided to travel instead to the Longwythe Rest Area, where there was a motel. None protested.

Dusk was already upon them, and the prince drove as fast as he could, his three companions with their weapons ready and an eye constantly on the road. When they saw the lights of the rest area not very far, a pool of miasma appeared in the middle of the road and an enormous arm emerged form it. Noctis stepped on the gas and veered to dodge whatever that thing was and didn’t look at the rear mirror afterwards, not even when he heard Prompto yelling that the daemon was running after them.

The tires screeched when the Regalia swerved again, as they drove around the curve towards the resting area and into safety. They looked behind them, and they saw a gigantic creature lumbering just outside the circle of light; on its hand, a monstrous weapon almost as big as the daemon wielding it. Noctis didn’t want to admit it, but his hands were so sweaty it had been hard to drive during the last portion of the road, and now he was glad he never looked at the rear mirror.

It had been a very long day, and Noctis needed some time alone to unwind and collect his thoughts. He climbed to the flat roof when his friend decided to go to sleep and closed his eyes, enjoying the fresh nightly air on his face.

He heard footsteps behind him, but the prince didn’t turn around, for he knew who it was.

Prompto sat at his side without any protocol, after slapping Noctis on the back. Despite the gunslighter’s smile, the prince knew something was nagging at him, and wondered if it had something to do with Cindy.

“So…” Prompto started timidly. “Pretty rough day, uh?”

“Every day’s rough if you ask me.”

“I guess,” he chuckled. “But even though it’s rough, it’s still fun. Every day’s a discovery, you know? I never imagined it’d work out like this. That I’d get to go on an adventure with you guys.”

“Who would have thought, uh?”

“So, how long have we been friends now? Let’s see… beginning of high school… so that’s… five years?”

“Yeah, but we’ve known each other way longer than that. Ever since elementary school, right?”

“Huh? You still remember that?”

“Could hardly forget being gawked at.”

“Well,” Prompto blushed slightly. “Y’know, it isn’t exactly easy being in the presence of royalty.”

“And when we did meet in high school, you pretended it was the first time.”

“Yeah, the first time I worked up the nerve to say something,” Prompto sighed deeply. “Feels just like yesterday.”

“You should’ve said something sooner.”

At those words Prompto started stammering.

“Oh, Noct… You just wouldn’t understand. Back then, I was…” he suddenly averted his eyes. “Actually, never mind.”

“Hey, you can’t just stop halfway.”

“Yeah, I know,” he said, laughing in embarrassment. Then his voice seemed to settle in a normal tone.

“I used to be super shy,” Prompto kept talking. “Couldn’t talk to people. No surprises, but I had no friends… at least not real ones. I was always alone. And there were times when I felt, well, worthless.”

“That’s what’s been bugging you?”

“I mean, when you look at me you wouldn’t think that I’m anything but a fun-loving, happy-go-lucky joker. But that isn’t the real me. Behind all the quips and laughs, I’m a mess of hang-ups. I’ve always felt interior to you guys. I’m not royalty and I’m not strong. I’m nothing, really,” he tugged at his armband. “Unlike Gladio, I’m not good with people. The way he connects with them, he’s operating on a different level. Unlike Ignis, I’m not smart and I can’t cook to save myself. But when we hang out, it’s so much fun I forget what I’m not. Then reality hits me like a splash of cold water, and I remember that I don’t belong. But I want to. Every moment, I’m desperate to earn my place… to prove that I’m good enough.”

This was the first time Prompto had spoken like that. Noctis himself wasn’t good with people either, but he had been able to connect with his three companions, especially with Prompto.

“Think what you will, but I think you’re good enough for me,” the prince assured.

Prompto seemed speechless for a moment, but he quickly recovered.

“So,” he said, looking at him. “You really think I’m doing okay?”

“Yeah, I do. Anything else?”

“Uh, no. Nothing at all,” he scratched the back of his head in embarrassment. “I’m sorry I got so real all of a sudden.”

“You should know better by know,” Noctis teased him. “You think I just make time for any old loser?”

“Huh? Why, you mad, bro?” he laughed. “Seriously, though, thanks for making time for this loser. Feels good to get that off my chest.”

With that, Prompto returned to the room, leaving Noctis alone again. The prince didn’t think much of that conversation. He already knew of Prompto’s insecurities and why he was so shy as a kid. And he knew of his habit of, whenever he was nervous, fiddling with the bracelet on his right wrist. No matter how he dressed, he always wore one matching hos outfit, a custom he carried ever since Noctis could remember. Despite his quirks, he was glad that he chose Prompto for that travel. Weak as he might think of himself, he provided the moral support they all needed.

The following day Prompto seemed to have returned to his old self. Everything was well again.


	28. Seaworthy

**BOOK 2: THE TALE OF THE CHOSEN KING  
**

**CHAPTER 16 – SEAWORTHY**

Noctis stirred and slowly opened his eyes. In the small hours of the night, a soft breeze moved the tent canvas. A chorus of crickets and frogs softly lulled him back to sleep. He heard a grunt and a snore. Gladio was having a restless dream.

The prince smiled, despite himself. Moments like these were rare, and he sometimes had the sinking feeling that they might not last too long. They had spent weeks on the road, traveling through the land in search for the lost tombs so he could claim the power of his ancestors until they reached their last stop, where they were resting right now: The outskirts of the Malman Thicket.

After visiting the Balouve Mines, they ventured into Costlemark Tower, a subterranean labyrinth which only opened at night. They had spent three whole days unraveling the mysteries the ruins guarded and, after much fighting and solving puzzles, they could reach the deepest chamber. Unlike other weapons, the one they retrieved from the Tower didn’t rest in a tomb, but was guarded instead by a giant beast: a Jabberwock, a giant lizard which species predated the War of the Astrals, according to Ignis. Upon its death they found a sword on its corpse: the Sword of The Tall who, true to his moniker, was said to be big as a mountain, and his sword was crafted to suit such a man.

The next tomb wasn’t inside any maze or ruin, thank the Six. The king known as The Just had been interred northwest of the Tower, in the middle of a forest. The only trouble they encountered was that of the local fauna. From that tomb Noctis retrieved a tower shield.

But, before they continued their search, Prompto asked to return to Lestallum. Back when Noctis spent the morning being shown around by Iris, his friends had encountered a peculiar man by the name of Vyv Dorden, who claimed to be the owner of a famous publishing house: Meteor Publishing. Having seen Prompto taking pictures, he quickly struck a conversation with him and was apparently quite impressed by the gunslinger’s skills.

Noctis then understood why his friend had insisted on stopping at every imperial base to take photos, and scolded him, half-jokingly, for not telling him sooner.

When the prince met Vyv, he was surprised the man could breathe in a city like Lestallum. His rotund form was a hindrance for that climate, as he himself claimed. He was an upbeat fellow, full of energy and enthusiasm, who was overjoyed at the photographs Prompto shown him. Behind his cheerful demeanor, however, was a rebellious spirit. Vyv claimed that, ever since the empire took control of the lands surrounding Insomnia, taxes had gone over the roof, while the “invaders”, as he called them, assured that they needed the funds to help with the reconstruction of Insomnia. All the resources were derived instead to military funding, as Vyv suspected. Now he had solid proof and, after thanking the four friends, went on his way to put together a new issue of his magazine.

The Rock of Ravatogh was said to be the final resting place of the god Ifrit after the War of the Astrals. Be it as it may, it was also the final resting place of Tonitrus Lucis Caelum, known as The Fierce for his merciless brutality in the battlefield. Nevertheless, he was also known for being a kind and just king who cared deeply about his subjects.

Visiting a volcano wasn’t something one did every day, and Prompto made good use of the time they spent there. Noctis wasn’t so sure about spending more time than necessary there. Somehow he didn’t think Ifrit would consent on giving him his blessing, and waking up the fire god was the last thing he wanted.

However, the volcano had one last surprise for them. At the top, following the path to the tomb, they found a gigantic depression. At one side there was a mountain of fallen trees and other debris pushed against the rocky wall. Gladio grabbed Noctis’ arm when the prince tried to get near it.

 _“It’s a nest,”_ his Shield whispered hurriedly. _“We don’t wanna be here when the mother comes back.”_

They scurried away as quickly as they could and traversed the narrow path leading to the tomb. There Noctis acquired the mace of The Fierce. The trip back to the car was another story.

Thinking that you might be safe in the proximity of a Zu nest, in broad daylight and in the middle of nesting season, is a mistake which most city dwellers are prone to make, and can be easily forgiven by even the most hard-boiled hunter in a good day. Zus, on the other hand, can’t tell the difference between a human raised in the countryside, and another whose only contact with nature has been through TV documentaries and photographs. Furthermore, nesting season always put the otherwise tame birds in a testy mood, and the proprietor of the Ravatogh’s nest had gone that day through a particularly rough morning.

The shrieking the four friends heard was horrifying enough to freeze their blood in their veins. Noctis instinctively tried to turn around, but he felt Ignis’ gloved hand grabbing him by the back of his neck and forcing him to the ground. And not a moment too soon! For the bird swooped down on them like a hurricane, sharp talons ready for the kill.

Lucky for them, such a gargantuan bird needed to describe a very wide circle before attempting another attack. Just enough time for them to scramble as fast as they could towards the gap on the rocky wall they had used as an entrance.

Noctis found strange that Gladio, who loved measuring his strength with that of the biggest beast he could find, didn’t encourage them to fight the Zu. As they made their way down the mountain, his Shield explained that Zus’ numbers were declining and that they didn’t normally pose a threat to humans, like behemoths did.

 _“’sides,”_ he added while he looked away from the group and towards the river of lava. _“There’re enough orphans in this world as it is.”_

The next stop would be the last before heading back to Cape Caem.

Malmalam Thicket was a forest south of the Rock of Ravatogh and west of the Maidewater, the main river of the Cleigne region. It was their last stop, simply because Prompto had heard rumors about the region and had wanted to postpone their visit as much as possible.

Tales of the feared “Witch of the Wood” were commonplace all through the region, but those weren’t the stories which terrified the gunslinger. The heart of the grove was said to be the home of a mysterious and fearsome beast. Hunters were strictly forbidden from stepping into the forest, but researchers were free to explore the thick jungle in search of any new species of mushroom, or any insect which would pique the interest of the scientific community. It was from those explorers the Grove that the rumors arose, while their peers had always dismissed the stories, blaming the hallucinogen spores from the many plants which grew there.

Be as it might, Prompto didn’t want to meet any beast, magical or not, until they were stronger, and Noctis commanded more Royal Arms. For once, Ignis agreed, and devised a route which would take them around the whole country, with the Malmalam Thicket as their last stop.

And thus they made camp at the entrance of the forest, so they could make the most of the following day. Or so they said aloud. They had been exploring the winding way leading to the forest the previous afternoon and, for some reason, Prompto refused to continue. Noctis suspected that the reason his friend didn’t want to go further was that he had seen a cottage far off the road, half-hidden in the forest, and had assumed that it was the lair of the dreaded Witch of the Woods. Since they were already tired from their ordeal at Ravatogh and the drive south, they decided to call it a day.

The prince had to admit, once he woke up and stepped out of the tent, that the forest looked far less ominous under the light of the rising sun. The chirping birds and the sound of cicadas made the scene seem almost dreamy. The mirage lasted until they ventured deeper. Giant crabs had made their home on a stream which crossed the forest; there were also giant wasps, and even a giant frog which nearly swallowed Gladio, not to talk about the carnivorous plants which had evolved to become a hybrid of plant an animal, and whose flowers released a toxic hallucinogen.

When the four friends reached the clearing, they were surprised to have done so in one piece. They also wondered how scientists could get any sample of whatever they were looking for without being shredded to bits.

After they could catch their breath, Noctis looked around them. Where the forest ended, the terrain rose on a slope and, if the prince craned his neck, he could see the tomb’s roof in the distance.

Prompto was looking at the clearing too and, all of a sudden took out his camera. This time, however, he wanted Noctis to take a photo of him with the far-off tomb as background.

The prince humored him and, as his friend struck a pose, he pressed the camera button.

Now, when Noctis looked through the camera viewfinder, he could swear there was an extra bush at the end of the slope. During the brief interval it took him to press the button, the bush sprung up, and the prince could only yell at his friend to run away. They jumped aside as the monster charged against them: a nightmare of thorny, coppery scales, horns and teeth.

Dispatching the beast took longer than normal, with them nearly exhausted from the previous combats. Nevertheless, the Bandersnatch (for that was the name of the monster), although fiercely territorial, was not used to humans and their weapons, and the small, dark-haired human who could teleport at will was especially disconcerting to the beast.

Once the beast lay dead, they could study it more closely. It resembled a bipedal saurian, with its hind legs and tail tremendously developed, while the front legs had devolved into mere vestiges. But it was the monstrous head what caught their attention: What they thought as mere grows around the snout which ended on a long horn, they were parts of an external mandible which opened three ways. Inside each side part, there were several rows of sharp teeth going all the way to the throat, which was wide enough to swallow two men.

Had they met the beast during the night, they would have mistaken it for a daemon.

“No wonder they said it was just a rumor,” Gladio commented as he grabbed one of the horns to open the maw.

“It certainly is a terrifying sight,” said Ignis.

“Yeah, especially if you come here unarmed.” Noctis remembered that he still had Prompto’s camera. He took it out and browsed through the pictures to see if he had managed to snap a decent shot.

What he saw made him explode in laughter.

Prompto snatched the camera from his hands.

“Not funny!” he yelled when he saw the picture.

“C’mon, you’re okay!” Noctis managed to say between fits of laughter.

“You really think this is okay?” the gunslinger asked the other two, shoving the camera into their faces.

Gladio laughed too, while Ignis adjusted his glasses.

“To be fair,” the retainer said with a perfectly composed face. “That’s is one-in-a-lifetime picture. I’d suggest you save it for posterity.”

The photo in question captured the exact moment on which the Bandersnatch charged against an unsuspecting Prompto, in the split second before both model and cameraman ran for their lives. The beast appeared blurred except for the open maw, and one could count the rows of teeth flanking the dangling tongue. It was a picture worthy of winning an award on any contest, not only for its unintentional artistic value, but also for the contrast between the grinning human and the ferocious beast, literally fuming with rage. It was also the only material proof that the Witch’s Pet ever existed.

Inside the tomb, Noctis found the scepter belonging to The Pious, a king who ruled the land according to divine law and worked closely with the Oracle of his time. Noctis didn’t care much about scepters, but he needed as much power as he could gather.

On their way out of the forest, the prince’s cell buzzed. Cid called to announce that the boat was ready.

Without taking a break at the camp outside the forest, they got into the Regalia and set for Cape Caem, not minding having to drive during the night.

The sight as they traveled down the coast hadn’t changed much, but under the faint light of the moon Noctis couldn’t help but feeling a weight on his chest. He and his friends had been adventuring during those past weeks and, while the plans they had devised seemed easy enough, he couldn’t help feeling a bit tense. His friends, however, were in a brighter mood.

“Wonder how Lady Lunafreya’s doing,” Prompto mused. “Any idea, Noct?”

“Who knows?”

“ _Who knows_?” the gunslinger exclaimed, turning on his seat. “ _You_ should know, shouldn’t you?”

“’Course he does,” said Gladio. “That’s why we’re crossin’ the sea.”

“He’s more concerned than anyone about Lady Lunafreya’s well-being,” Ignis reminded him.

“I’m going to sleep,” Noctis grumbled, crossing his arms and making himself confortable on his seat.

“Whoa, you’re blushing,” Prompto laughed.

The prince opened his eyes and was about to deliver a scathing retort, but something out of the corner of his eye distracted him. An assault craft flew over the mountains to their left.

Pinpointing the exact place the imperial troops might land wasn’t easy, and they had to leave the Regalia in the first secure spot they came across. Creeping along the mountain wall, they hid behind a natural recess, with some rocks as cover. From there, under the dawn’s light, they could finally see the craft and the troops deployed across the road, silently waiting for them to pass.

“Getting through will not be easy,” Ignis murmured, once he had studied their enemy and went back behind their cover.

“Damnit,” Noctis sworn. “How could they find us?”

“Looks like they are on high alert,” said Gladio.

It was to be expected. They had spent too much time roaming about and leaving a mark. Word spreads quickly, especially about a group of four young men clad in dark clothes who travelled in an insomnian car.

“Can’t we sneak around?” Prompto asked.

“Impossible,” Ignis shook his head. “We could circle the entire region and have access through the Galdin Quay intersection, but that route would cost us a day and a half, and we have no guarantee that they are not blocking the other side.”

“Think the others will be all right,” Gladio murmured.

“They wouldn’t be waiting for us had they taken Cape Caem,” Ignis assured.

“You thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?” Noctis said all of a sudden.

Without another word, Ignis issued the instructions for a plan of attack. It would be simple and to the point: Noctis would warp-strike first and eliminate as many as he could in one swipe. Following that diversion, the others would attack.

Invoking the sword of The Mystic, he warped towards the line of MTs, cleaving at one in the head. He jumped in the air, changing his weapon to a lighter blade and felled another soldier. Now he had a greatsword on his hands and eliminated two more in one swipe. He heard gunshots behind him: his friends were already in the battlefield.

Their skills had improved with their traveling and hunting, and now the MTs seemed slow and clumsy to them. At one point, Prompto tripped and fell on his back, trying to dodge the axe of one of the robots. He shot at the head, but he could only break through the metal mask. Behind the humanoid visage, two red lights were fixed on him. Prompto became paralyzed for a second, for he wasn’t expecting the robots to be so horrifying underneath those masks.

A blade appeared with a blue flash, cutting the robot’s head. Noctis materialized, using the metal body to propel himself up. He changed again to a greatsword and smashed the next soldier to smithereens.

Prompto got to his feet, shaking his head, to see Noctis running towards him.

“Quite messin’ around!” the prince screamed over the all the noise from the fight as they bumped their fists.

Despite that minor hiccup, the fight went well. Until some explosions went off near them. They jumped aside, looking in bewilderment how their attacker didn’t mind hitting the MTs.

Looking up, they saw a second craft appearing over the mountain. The doors opened, and more MTs jumped down, along with a metal container, which fell heavily on the road. The container’s lights flashed as its doors opened, and from inside something slithered out.

Noctis felt as if the ground was being pulled from under his feet. The daylight was gone already and, as the daemon lazily uncoiled and rose to its full height, a memory resurfaced in the prince’s mind.

_A convoy crossing the desert at night. Insomnia wasn’t much further. It was supposed to have been a day of enjoyment at the forest with his nanny and the bodyguards, but he had been angry. He had wanted his father to come along but the King was busy, as always. That had taken all the fun out of the whole trip. His nanny said something about his father wanting to come along, but he answered with angry words. An explosion cut the woman’s words, and he didn’t remember anything more, except the screams of his bodyguards. His nanny dragged him out of the car and they ran as fast as they could._

_Pain on his back. His nanny screaming. He could never forget that scream. Or that the last thing he said to her were the irate words of a little child._

_He couldn’t move. He didn’t feel anything from the waist down. In a numbed stupor, he raised one hand to see it covered in blood. He looked up, and the half-woman, half-snake monster, a Marilith, gazed back at him, her numerous arms wielding sharp blades, her face contorted in a grimace of disgust._

His father saved him that night. Noctis never asked how he knew about the attack, or how he could arrive just in the nick of time. The only thing he could remember was the monster about to slash at him with one of its sword, and a flash of blue light from his father’s arminger. Noctis kept watching, his mind still unfeeling, as if he was seeing it from outside. He saw his father slowly advancing against the light from the burning cars, ghostly weapons swirling around his body in a blue hurricane, raining blows and slashed upon the monster which, despite her many arms, couldn’t keep up with him, and was slowly driven backwards until it was pushed over a precipice.

Now the monster stood before him once more. A scar split its face in two, but Noctis could recognize the monster. And the monster seemed to still remember him.

This time fear didn’t paralyze him. Anger burned inside his chest like a hot coal, and before Ignis could stop him, he charged towards the monster.

The Marilith repelled his attack with ease and sent him tumbling backwards. The monster charged but, Ignis with his lance and Gladio with his greatsword interrupted it. Enraged, the daemon turned its attention towards the Shield, while the retainer and Prompto helped Noctis back to his feet.

“We gotta get outta here!” the gunslinger yelled as he grabbed the prince’s arm.

“Then go!” Noctis barked, shaking his friend’s hand away. “But I’m staying!”

He summoned his blade again and charged a second time. The monster slashed at him, but he was prepared and blocked in time. Noctis tried a third time, but the Marilith counter-attacked with a whirlwind of slashes that he couldn’t block. The final blow was so strong it felt like hitting a brick wall, and he blacked out.

The next thing he felt was his body hitting the cold sea waters.

_“Damnit…”_

He still wasn’t strong enough. His father had driven that monster away, yet he couldn’t land a single blow.

The water’s surface gleam was slowly growing further away, as his limbs felt heavy and numb. A dark ribbon floated upwards from an open wound on his shoulder.

The light disappeared, and he thought he could see a shadow hovering above him.

_“Noct!”_

His eyes opened wide. Memories of fire surrounding him. His father screaming Noctis’ name and he hovered over his son. The voice dimming out as the young prince lost consciousness.

 _“Get a grip on yourself…”_ he though angrily, extending his hand to summon his sword.

Noctis warped out of the water, going to nail his blade on the Marilith’s shoulder. The monster, surprised that its prey was still alive, couldn’t react when the prince switched to a lighter sword to slash at its face, cutting the golden diadem that adorned the monstrosity.

The daemon roared in pain and rage, coiling back.

“Noct!” he heard Ignis calling for him.

The prince landed on a rock. “Sorry,” he said. “Just had to cool off.”

It was time to make use of what he had learned so far. He invoked his arminger, and the ghostly images of the Royal Arms floated around him.

The Marilith snarled, remembering that human who had wounded it decades back with the same trick, and slashed savagely at Noctis. The prince warped and appeared above the monster, releasing the arminger in a whirlwind of slashes and blows. The daemon parried and counter-attacked, but Noctis was faster, blinking in and out of sight until the Marilith was blind with rage, and its strength began to falter.

He warped one last time, just when the monster charged forward. In a single blow he cut half of its six arms, but the Marilith still had enough energy to keep fighting with its three remaining blades and its fangs.

Noctis left a small opening, and the daemon shoved him to the ground. When he got up, he saw his friends stepping between him and the daemon.

“You’re not in this alone, y’know,” said Gladio.

Together, the four friends attacked the now maddened daemon. Noctis and Gladio wielded greatswords and charged first, cutting two of the three remaining arms. Then Gladio, who still had enough energy, jumped and slashed with all his might, chopping off the remaining one. Noctis, stepping on his Shield’s sword, jumped up and cleaved at the Marilith’s head with a lighter blade, while Ignis cleaved at it with his lance and Prompto didn’t stop shooting at its head. Gladio took Noctis arm and, swinging him around, launched him against the monster. The Prince switched to a greatsword and slashed at its throat, chopping off the head.

It was over. The monster which had terrorized him on his dreams as a child was no more.

Slowly, he got to his feet. The giant body lay across the road, its flesh slowly consuming on a black cloud. He staggered towards the cliff, away from that monstrosity, and looked at the sea.

Dawn colored the clouds with a rose gold shade, but Noctis didn’t see it. On his mind’s eye, he was remembering again, back to when he was a child. Back when he had spent many days in bed, unable to move.

His father had always been at his bedside, holding his hand.

_“I won’t let anyone hurt you.”_

King Regis was a man of his word. He had kept that promise and paid with his life for it.

“Dad…” Noctis murmured.

It was the first time he uttered that word since he left Insomnia. His voice caught on the lump in his throat, and he fell to his knees, tears blinding him.

The previous weeks the invasion had felt like a dream, something the news spoke about, and an event with dire consequences, but for Noctis it always had a sense of unreality. Now, he had been pitted against the very monster which tried to kill him, the daemon his father sworn to protect him from. Noctis had killed that monster and, in doing so, the fact that his father was no more finally sunk in.

He cried, finally mourning for a king who sacrificed everything for his son’s sake, and who saw him away with a smile on his lips, despite the sadness in his heart.

**xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx**

They arrived at Cape Caem around noon. Iris and Talcott came running from the house to greet them, all smiles. None of the friends mentioned anything about the empire’s ambush.

The boat was ready, but they wouldn’t sail away until the following day. For the moment and, at Monica’s insistence, it was time to rest and eat something.

Noctis got up early the next morning. He could barely sleep the previous night, and the fresh air from the coast felt good.

He heard a dog barking in the distance. Turning around, he saw a black patch of fur running up the hill towards him.

“Umbra!”

The dog, wagging his tail, sat down obediently before the prince. Noctis scratched his ears and searched for the journal.

Luna’s message was brief, as always: _“Waiting for you in Altissia.”_

He sighed, biting his lip. He couldn’t make her wait any longer.

The prince thought about all the possible answers he could give her, but chose the shortest one: _“Be there as soon as I can.”_

There were so many things he wanted to say, but soon they would be together, and that was enough for him. Just a few days more, maybe hours, he kept repeating to himself.

Despite his effort at looking cool and unfazed when his friends prodded at him, the truth was that the only thing he wanted was to see her again. It was true that Noctis was afraid to stumble into his own words, as every time he was nervous. After all, he wouldn’t be talking to a child, but to a mesmerizingly beautiful, full-grown woman, who also happened to be his bride-to-be.

His fingers trembled slightly when he wrote the message, but he hoped she would blame it on being unable to find an even surface. With the notebook safely in the pouch, Noctis scratched Umbra again behind the ears and sent him away.

As he saw Umbra disappearing from sight, he caught someone frantically waving their arms at the cottage’s door: Iris called for him. It was breakfast time.

Looking at his watch, he thought it was broken. It was well past eight in the morning and the sun had barely appeared on the horizon. Later, Ignis confirmed his suspicions in a private conversation, away from Talcott or Iris’ ears: Days were getting shorter, and time was on the essence.

Later that morning, taking the lift to the cave, they could hear Talcott’s lively chatter on the cave underneath.

“Look, Prince Noctis!” they heard the child screaming. “Even the marshal came to say goodbye!”

Cor had arrived while they were at the house, and was busy in conversation with Cid. The old man had taken to live down there, despite Monica’s protests, saying that he was used to sleep near his tools, and that he would be damned if he was about to change now.

After they were done with the greetings, Cor took Noctis aside on the resting area.

“Something I gotta get off my chest,” the man started.

“What’s that?” Noctis asked, guessing the marshal was about to lecture him about not being ready and that he might need more training.

To his surprise, Cor faced him with an expression that could be read as sadness.

“I’m sorry,” the man said, lowering his gaze. “Sorry I wasn’t there for your father. I swore and oath to protect the king, but I wasn’t strong enough to uphold it.”

Noctis said nothing. What could he say? He shared Cor’s guilt over King Regis’ death. He was his son, after all, and he knew his father couldn’t fight anymore. Yet he was fishing and sleeping in an expensive hotel while his father was fighting and losing his life. Many times he wondered what would have happened had he stayed behind.

The prince could only shake his head, but no words came to his lips.

“Ain’t nothin’ nobody could’ve done to stop what happened,” said Cid, shuffling past them to sit at the sofa.

“Yeah,” Noctis managed to say in a hoarse voice. “I realize that.”

“But you need to realize just what you mean to the boys by your side,” the old man continued.

“I do.” Of course he did. He knew he could trust his friends with his life.

“Even if they can’t solve your problems, you can’t hide what’s goin’ on from ‘em,” Cid fixed a piercing glance on him. “It hurts like hell.”

Noctis pursed his lips. Cid was talking about how Regis had kept everything a secret from everyone. Maybe Gladio’s dad knew something, given that he had sent his family to a safe place before the signing.

“Remember: those ain’t your bodyguards, they’re your brothers,” Cid insisted, faintly echoing Regis’ words. “Trust in ‘em. Always.”

Coming from someone who had been lifelong friends with his father, those words would stay with Noctis. They also made him think about how Regis and Cid’s friendship soured, and resolved not to let anything do the same with his own friends.

When everything was ready, there were more kind words exchanged. Iris finally revealed what she had crafted with the materials she bought back in Lestallum: A moogle plush which would serve them as a good luck charm. She also made his brother promise he would bring her something from Altissia, and Talcott made sure that Noctis could know about all the legends surrounding Accordo and the sea.

As a goodbye, Prompto suggested a family photo, to which none refused. They were all in high spirits and full of hope. The Ring would be soon in the hands of Noctis, and they could rescue Luna from the empire.

Noctis dallied a bit more before boarding the ship. Cid appeared at the deck, arms akimbo and huffing with impatience.

“Waitin’ for an invitation?” he hollered. “Get your asses on board!”

The last thing Noctis and his friends saw of Cape Caem and the dock was Iris and Talcott waving them goodbye.

“Your Majesty!” The kid yelled between tears. “Please come back soon! We need our king!”

“Yeah! Count on it!”

At long last, the last stretch of the travel would begin. Only the Six knew what awaited them.


	29. Callings

**BOOK 2: THE TALE OF THE CHOSEN KING  
**

**CHAPTER 17 – CALLINGS**

**Yureil Plaza, Altissia.**

The archipelago of Accordo was famous for its mild weather and calm waters. The locals attributed such blessing to the Tidemother, Leviathan, whom they venerated with a mixture of love and fear, for it was said that she was capricious and unpredictable like the sea itself.

Now, it had been a few weeks since the empire had deployed its troops in Altissia and, at the same time, it began to rain copiously. Accordo had always enjoyed a special status and independence, and so the locals didn’t show much discomfort when they saw the troops patrolling the streets. Behind closed doors, however, as days went by and the rain didn’t seem to stop, even the most optimistic altissian began to wonder if perhaps the Tidemother was furious that the empire, which had slain a god already, were soiling her country.

Ravus didn’t care much about the rabble’s babbling. But that particular day, after seeing that his troops had the necessary instructions, he took away from his lodgings and spent the rest of the afternoon wandering through the city. Altissia was famous for its light and its beauty, even on rainy days, but for the High Commander everything was tinted of the same dull, gray color.

Now he stood at the foot of the stairs leading to the cathedral, where his sister was supposed to have married Noctis. Red and yellow banners hung from the façade, the colors of Accordo. It would have been the appropriate thing to tear them down and substitute them with those from Niflheim, but Accordo enjoyed a special status, he had to remember.

If only Tenebrae had the same privilege.

Ravus closed his eyes and raised his face to the heavens, silently praying to whichever god might want to listen, but with little hope that any would do so. The rain suddenly stopped pattering on his face and on his silver hair. He opened his eyes to see that someone was holding a black umbrella over his head.

“The wedding day arrives, but alas, without the bride,” said an overdramatic voice behind him.

The Lord of Tenebrae had learned to keep a straight face through the years, to never show his hand to anyone, but he hated that voice and its owner with all his might. Without a word, Ravus turned around and walked away without looking at the chancellor.

“Of course, we’ve come for the Hydraean,” the man kept talking. Something in his words made Ravus stop. “And you’ve gone to such lengths to prepare.”

“Merely my duty,” he answered tersely, still not looking at him.

“Ah, but for an outsider to lead the imperial army must be a battle in and of itself.”

Ravus resumed his walking.

“You’ve spoken to Lady Lunafreya?”

He stopped again, and this time he did turn to face the chancellor. It was infuriating how he stood there, playfully twirling his umbrella, an unctuous smile plastered on his face.

“No.”

“That obstinate secretary, standing in the way,” Ardyn complained melodramatically. “While you rush off to slay the Hydraean for your poor sister’s sake.”

Ravus’ seething fury turned to surprise. At that, Ardyn smirked.

“I know the price of the covenant.”

**The sea.**

Traveling by boat wasn’t as terrible as Prompto had thought. Both he and Noctis suffered from motion sickness, but so far they were perfectly fine.

“Y’know,” the gunslinger said. “I’ve always wanted to go sailing like this.”

“Not many opportunities living in Insomnia,” Gladio pointed out.

“Out here, it’s just us and the horizon! It’s amazing… it’s life-changing!”

“We’ve quite a way to go until we reach Altissia,” Ignis smiled. “So keep gushing to your heart’s content.”

“When we step off the boat, we’ll be in a foreign country.”

“The anticipation alone is a foreign sensation.”

“And to think this is where we were headed to begin with,” Gladio reflected.

“We’ve been through a lot,” Noctis admitted.

“And there’s still more to come,” his retainer predicted.

“So, next on the docket is Leviathan,” said Prompto while he tried to snap a photo of the diminishing Caem.

“What short of deity are we dealing with?” Gladio asked.

“A serpent said to embody the roar and rage of the sea.”

“We’ll have to _sea_ for ourselves,” Noctis joked.

“Can’t let Lady Lunafreya do all the heavy lifting,” Prompto teased. “You must be so psyched to see her.”

“Luna?”

“Yeah!”

“Well, we need to make sure she’s alright before anything else,” his suddenly serious tone surprised his friend.

“Indeed. Her well-being is top priority.”

“Don’t like this is going down on imperial turf,” Gladio admitted.

“You think Lady Lunafreya’s in danger there?” Prompto asked Ignis.

“The empire did invade Lucis for the ring. I have no faith their ruthless ambitions will stop short of harming the Oracle.”

“Without the Ring, the Crystal’s no more than a rock,” said Gladio.

Prompto crossed his arms, thinking.

“Hmm… I suppose… Does anyone know how Lady Lunafreya came to have the ring?”

“It seems likely His Majesty entrusted it to her safekeeping back at the Crown City.”

“So she’s held onto it this whole time, all the way to Altissia,” Gladio marveled.

“The Ring is important,” Noctis admitted. “And so is Leviathan… but Luna comes first.”

“You know, I was thinking back to your encounter with Ravus. Do you recall and apparatus in place of his arm?”

“Yeah, I remember,” growled Gladio.

“Seems he lost his old one in the invasion. But in his place, he seems to have acquired new power.”

“Power?” as much as he hated that conversation, Noctis couldn’t help feeling curious.

“That would help explain how a son of Tenebrae suddenly came to command Niflheim’s army,” the Shield said.

“Now that you mention it,” Prompto recalled. “His strength did seem sorta… supernatural. I just chalked it up to the Oracle lineage.”

“His ancestry may be part of it, but that alone wouldn’t account for his freakish strength.”

“I wonder what could’ve happened to him?” the prince mused.

“There’s a disturbing rumor about: Lord Ravus has taken to brandishing His Majesty’s sword.”

“My dad’s?”

“And what’s the big idea behind it?” Gladio cracked his knuckles. As if he needed more reasons for wanting to face Ravus in a fight.

“That his power’s the same as the power of kings?” Prompto ventured.

“I cannot say for sure, but I have my doubts. Ravus wears the sword, yet does not wield it.”

“For all his newfound powers, he’s still the chancellor’s lapdog,” said Gladio, still remembering how the high commander obeyed Ardyn without a word. “Holding onto the enemy king’s sword like some badge of honor.”

Prompto kept trying to take photos, this time of the slowly approaching Accordo.

“It might help if we knew what he was after,” he said.

“Who can say?” Noctis sighed.

“What are the odds the empire will crash the pool party with Leviathan?”

“Consider it a guarantee. They felled a god to prevent Noct from receiving his blessing, and they’ll do so again.”

“But we beat ‘em to the big guy… thanks to our friendly _guide_.”

Gladio snorted.

“Never know which way that one’s gonna move next,” he grumbled.

“The chancellor has an agenda all his own.”

“Sometimes it helps…” the gunslinger remembered. “Like when he called off his army and let us escape.”

“But he was still a creep about it,” Noct said.

“Well,” Gladio scratched his beard. “It feels he’s only helping us because he wants something… I just don’t know what.”

“Reckon we’ll see him again?” said Prompto, trying to catch a glimpse of flying fishes nearby.

“Certainly hope not.”

“Not your type?”

“No love lost for phonies,” said Gladio.

“As Gladio said, his actions are motivated not by altruism, but by self-interest. And when he does come to our aid, I see only condescension in his eyes.”

“Yeah, can’t argue with that,” just remembering those green-amber eyes made Noctis shiver.

“Ever think you think too much,” said Prompto.

“Sometimes,” said Ignis, as dispassionately as ever. “But it’s always preferable to the alternative.”

“So, soon you’ll have yer old man’s ring back,” Cid called from the helm.

“Yeah. When we arrive in Altissia.”

“Good thing. To him, it was his heritage.”

“Is that what my dad said?”

“Carrying a royal line ain’t a task to be taken lightly. For a small thing, that ring can sure weights heavy. After he became king, I only ever saw his face in the paper.”

“Wait,” said Gladio. “Weren’t you at the coronation?”

“Nah, I was long gone from the city.”

“Must’ve been invited at least,” somehow, that conversation was making Noctis incredibly uncomfortable.

“Had a falli’-out o’ shorts with your old man. Right at the end of the trip.”

“You did?” Prompto asked. He had suddenly forgotten the flying fishes and the landscape.

“I was given to understand you stayed in touch,” said Ignis.

“We buried the hatched years later, but never talked face-to-face again.” The old man shook his head. “Shoulda paid a visit while I had the chance. Well, no use dwelin’ on it now. Got the Regalia in the hold, but y’all gonna stay in Altissia for a good while, right?”

“Yes, we believe so.”

“In that case, I’ll tune her up for y’all. Not that I’ll have much to do, though, that with Cindy lookin’ after the old girl.”

“If you say she’s good, she must be great,” said Prompto.

“She was never afraid o’ hard work,” Cid boasted as a grandfather would. “Heaven knows she had a hard childhood.”

“ _A hard childhood?_ ” the blond echoed. That wasn’t what he was expecting to hear.

“He means her parents,” Gladio clarified.

“Lost ‘em both when she was little. Was big enough to understand, thought… an’ to hurt. But ya wouldn’t guess that, seein’ her now.”

“Not at all,” the blond murmured. “She’s always so cheerful.”

“Well, that oughta tell ya how far she’s come.”

The cliffs surrounding Altissia approached slowly. Of the four friends, only Gladio and Prompto showed any thrill at the upcoming visit. Noctis was too preoccupied with his encounter with Luna, which was understandable, while for Ignis it wasn’t his first time. He had visited the city already when he was a young boy, and he had supplied his friends with as many descriptions as he could. However, since he was still too young to wander on his own back then, his experience had been too limited and brief. Therefore, Gladio tried coaxing more information out of Cid.

“Man. You must have seen your fair share of Altissia by now.”

“Yeah… Only done been the once. Stayed a good while, though.”

“What’s it like?” Prompto asked.

“Big ol’ city.”

“ _Big._ Okay,” said Noctis, whose impatience was turning into sourness.

“Well, it ain’t the Crown City.”

“ _Different_. Got it.”

“You’ll see it for yourself,” Ignis tried to calm him down. “Foreign lands seldom lend themselves to trite explanations.”

“Change o’ scenery oughta do you good,” Cid said. “We’ll be there in no time.”

They were about to reach the entrance between the cliffs walls. The Protectorate of Accordo consisted on an archipelago to the south of the continent of Lucis. Its biggest island was presumed to be a gigantic crater from the War of the Astrals. Be as it may, it formed a natural barrier of cliffs with a single entrance. Inside it, the sea level was lower, endless waterfalls fell to the lake within, and a single island harbored Altissia, Accordo’s jewel. Just the description made anyone who was yet to visit the city wonder how was it possible for the lake to never fill, and for waterfalls to be born under the cathedral. It was speculated that it was all the influence of Leviathan, lady patron of the city and to whom the locals offered worship and prayer.

“Lodgings are our first order of business,” said Ignis.

“All work and no play…” started Prompto.

“… makes Ignis a dull boy,” Noctis finished.

“Someone had to babysit you two,” Gladio pointed out with a smirk.

“And you’re welcome to sleep in the wild,” said the retainer to the Shield.

“Ain’t no hotel, but I know a fella has a place,” Cid informed them.

“Hey now…”

“Weskham… ran with Reggie and me way back when.”

“Oh, was he the other one in that photo at the garage?” Prompto asked.

“Yep. Runs himself a diner or café or somethin’. Go and see for yourselves. Magee? Or Magoo? Or… Maagho, that’s the one. You can count on ol’ Wes… He’ll chew your ears off.”

Upon reaching the borders of Altissia, they caught the radio signal of the local news.

 _“The government issued a statement promising that the reasons behind awakening the Hydraean would be clarified in the ceremonial address,”_ said the newscaster. _“Delivering the address will be Lady Lunafreya, who was previously reported dead. This will mark her first public appearance since the violence that befell the signing ceremony.”_

“Lady Lunafreya’s gonna give a speech?” Prompto exclaimed.

“Lord knows… this word could use some wisdom,” Cid said, nodding pensively. He was already maneuvering to enter the main canal.

“Won’t be much longer, Noct,” Ignis smiled.

However, the prince was too absorbed on whatever was passing through his mind. It was clear that he was nervous. He nodded absentmindedly and kept fidgeting with his hands.

It was a good thing that Prompto had taken out his camera again, because his friend wasn’t looking at what surrounded them now. As Cid skillfully steered the boat towards the access canal, the sea under them dropped to a waterfall, and they saw themselves sailing along a canal between the cliffs and the city. At each side of the canal there was a sidewalk, and columns and statues signaled the places where stairs led to the levels below. It was a work of art, and a fine piece of civil engineering.

The travellers saw the bridge ended on a big wall, curving outwards as a pair or arms outstretched in greetings. Stone statues of old heroes and religious figures occupied the stone alcoves, and the red and yellow banners of Accordo adorned it. It was in that wall that the customs officers stopped them to ask for their entry permit.

Noctis and his friends looked dumbfounded at the guard, but Cid took out of his pocket a withered card and shown it to the guard.

“That’s as old as they get,” said the guard, looking at the faded out printing. He then sighed. “Seems in order. You may pass.”

When they crossed the door, the city finally revealed itself in its entire splendor. It was a sight far beyond their expectations. Even Noctis leaned on the railing to get a better view.

“Prepared in advance?” asked Ignis while his friends gushed in admiration.

“Could say that,” Cid chuckled. “Thirty-odd years ago.”

“That’s what they guy meant by _old_ ,” said Gladio.

“Lucky us, eh?” Cid laughed.

“That could have ended badly,” Noctis protested.

They slowly cruised through the calm waters of Altissia, making their way through the many sailing ships dotting the lake. Fishing was not only the main source of food, but also the national sport, a detail Ignis made sure to point out to Noctis, who lost a bit more of his sourness.

Beyond the wall, they saw the city rising from the waters and, atop yet another waterfall, sat the Cathedral to Leviathan, mirroring the half-moon shape of the wall outside.

Stepping out of the boat, Cid directed them to the immigration office, which was a mere sentry box outside the docks, but which they couldn’t bypass.

Upon questioned about the purpose of their visit, Noctis made Ignis intervene.

His retainer passed the test of the gatekeeper with flying colors, giving the man a perfectly tailored story about being on a travel around the world to learn culinary secrets from the best masters, and that Maagho had attracted their attention this time.

Be as it might, the man looked over Ignis’ shoulder to the other three, and let them pass. None of them knew if he had believed Ignis, but they never mentioned it again.

The streets were bustling with both locals and tourists, much like what happened in Lestallum. What caught Prompto’s attention was that there were flowers and greenery everywhere they looked, from balconies to pots along the many bridges crossing the canals. The royal wedding had nothing to do with it, for altissians prided themselves on always keeping their city as beautiful as possible.

The photographer also noticed the many young ladies walking down the street. Ignis told him that altissian women were notorious for their beauty and their temperamental nature. Men, however, were smooth talkers, going so far as to suggest that even Gladiolus would have a hard time trying to charm a local lady.

Wandering only let them go so far, and eventually they had to take a gondola, to Prompto’s delight. Maagho was a floating café under the arcade of a residential area, and by it there was the floating market, that is, merchants who offered their products from their own boats.

Weskham Armaugh gave them a warm welcome, especially to Noctis, whom he had last seen when the prince was but a baby. He was a dark-skinned man who wore his already greying hair into cornrows. His impeccably trimmed beard and a monocle over his left eye gave him a distinguished air, but something in the way he moved and looked around the place told them that he still retained his skills as a warrior.

As Cid had promised, Weskham had interesting information for them. He was also an excellent cook, and they talked at great length over the house’s specialties. He told them about Accordo being a protectorate, and that meant that the empire could come and go as they pleased. It was a one-side arrangement, so most everything they did required Niflheim’s permission; since they wouldn’t knowingly permit the Oracle to appear before the public, it was a mystery to Weskham how the government spun it.

Unable to keep it out of his mind, the first thing that Noctis asked was about Luna. No one had seen her, though they all knew she was in the city. The media, always hungry for scoops, was eerily silent, which spoke volumes of government intervention, and the fact that the local authorities might have a hand on not allowing the empire to see the Oracle.

“That’d certainly explain the rumors of disgruntled imperial officers leaving the city,” the man chuckled, crossing his arms.

He also told them about the empire’s occupation of the city. Sometimes even at his establishment. Theirs was such a common presence the locals didn’t think much of it, though the High Commander had caused a ruckus when he arrived some days before, especially among the ladies.

“So soon after they felled the Archaean in Lucis, his arrival fuels rumors that they will next come to Altissia,” said Weskham, his expression somber. “The empire’s not content with ruling all the land… they want the heavens as well.”

About Leviathan, he knew that, though the waters kept calm and the fishing was still abundant, there was word that the government would open the Altar of the Tidemother while, on the side, they were also scrambling to stockpile emergency provisions. He wondered why they would allow the rite to proceed if they knew the Hydraean would wreak havoc.

They heard a gondola arriving at the dock, but only looked up when they noticed Weskham’s face lighting up with a smile.

“My dear Camelia,” he saluted. “It’s been a while.”

A blonde, middle-aged woman stepped into the pier with an escort of soldiers. Dressed in an elegant yet sensible ensemble of jacket and skirt, her short stature didn’t prevent her from radiating an aura of authority as she strode to the newly arrived group.

“I heard about your distinguished guests,” she told Weskham.

“Ah, you’ve an ear for gossip.”

“Gentlemen,” though her words addressed the party, she fixed her eyes on Noctis. “I won’t waste your time. My name is Camelia Claustra.”

“First secretary of the Accordo Protectorate,” said Ignis.

“You should know we have Lady Lunafreya in our care.”

Noctis held his breath, using all his willpower not to jump.

“And the empire demands we surrender her.”

“What?”

“Yet I am loath to acquiesce unless we stand to profit. Hence I’ve come to discuss terms… with the King of Lucis. If you have a mind to talk, come to my estate.”

Noctis dropped on one of the stools at the bar when the woman was out of sight. _Negotiate_ , as if he had anything to offer.

“She can be oblique at the best of times,” Weskham murmured to him. “But I assure you her heart is in the right place.”

Noctis nodded, but he couldn’t conceal how much Mrs. Claustra’s words had affected him. They decided to book a room at the local hotel and discuss their strategy during that evening.

Ignis, as the group’s expert in diplomacy, instructed Noctis about the overall tone he should keep during the conversation, the demands the Secretary was most likely to expose, and what Noctis should offer and how he should word it. He cautioned the younger man about the woman’s adamant concern about her people, and suggested that he put himself on her place.

The next morning they headed for the estate, Altissia’s monuments and beauties forgotten. There was only one thing in Noctis’ mind.

That would be his very first act as a king, but only because, for some reason, the Secretary wanted to consider him as such. Until he had the ring, his ascension to the throne couldn’t be considered complete.

Camelia Claustra seemed to be waiting for him, even at that early hour in the morning, and had no problems clearing her schedule for her visitors.

As instructed by Ignis, Noctis restrained his desire to demand that they let them see Luna. Instead, he expressed gratitude for the Secretary receiving them in person, and concern for what the empire would do to Accordo.

While his words were aimed to smooth things over, there was a reason why Camelia, whom in her younger years had been an anti-imperial activist, had reached the highest position and kept it all those years without the empire acting against her. She cut to the chase, and asked why the Oracle sought to awaken the Hydraean. Noctis saw no reason to hide anything from her, and exposed the covenant, and his intention to receive Leviathan’s blessing.

“The answer I wanted to hear,” she said, elbows on the table and hands clasped before her. “And yet, king or not, it can’t be a simple affair for you to receive a god’s blessing. Let me be frank: the potential chaos worries me. You know better than most what took place in Lucis with the Archaean. Tell me, what happened?”

He had narrowly saved the first pitfall. This woman was far more informed than he had expected, so he told her the truth about him attaining Titan’s powers.

Her expression hardened, but it was as if she had been expecting bad news. As they spoke, she said, the empire was mobilizing their forces, and chaos was unavoidable.

“It will most likely come to war,” she said. “However, I don’t care to host a battle on my soil, the gods and the empire be damned.”

That was the cue Ignis had warned him about.

“Would be a disaster if a battle took place in the city,” he admitted.

“Indeed. We must be prepared to evacuate our citizens.”

“That’s the deal you wanna make.”

Camelia smiled, getting up from her chair.

“Perceptive and direct,” she said, walking around the table to lean on its side. “Makes things that much easier when you can dispense with the dance. Without further ado, let us talk terms. If you wish to hold the rite, you must ensure my citizens’ safety and aid in their evacuation.”

He nodded. It was a reasonable demand that he would have should the roles be reversed.

“As long as the people’s safety is assured, I have no qualms with your rite. But that’s not all. Once the rite has begun, I will not be accountable for what follows. You are on your own.”

“Not a problem. We know how to take care of ourselves.”

“Thank you,” she said. Surprisingly enough, her face softened. “I’m sorry we cannot do more, but as I’m sure you are aware, few armies can stand against the might of the imperial fleet. That’s all for the terms. To review, you are to ensure our citizens’ safety and engage the empire. Do we have an agreement?”

Noctis nodded, flashing his most sincere smile.

“Alright,” he said. “Let’s fight as allies.”

“Allies?” she said coldly. “Such a vote of confidence. Well, you can trust us to do our part and keep the Oracle safe.

“A final warning,” she said, walking towards him. “Though I doubt it’ll come to it. My duty is to my citizens. Should any harm befall them, there will be a reckoning… for both king and Oracle.”

“Alright. You do what you must to protect your people.”

Only then a shadow of a smile seemed to dance in her face.

“You’re just like your father,” she said.

“Thanks.”

“You’ve made the right decision.”

An attendee entered the room them.

“Madam,” he said. “It’s time.”

“Assign three of your own for the evacuation effort,” she instructed Noctis. “Whom you choose is up to you. According to our intel, the imperial fleet will be four warships strong. Steel yourselves for a full-scale battle.”

She seemed to let go of some of the tension when she offered her hand.

“I’m glad we could talk,” the Secretary admitted. “We can act in our own interest to our mutual benefit.”

His first diplomatic trial as a king, and he passed it. However, he felt exhausted. Noctis would have wanted to, at least, know about Luna’s well-being but, as Ignis had put it, that would convey distrust towards Accordo.

Camelia saw the four young men walking away from the palace. She heard the footsteps behind her, but she didn’t turn around.

“I can’t promise something I can’t help,” she apologized.

“Of course,” said Weskham. “You certainly opened up to them, though.”

“What can I say? I have a soft spot for the young and tragic.” The Secretary saw the four young men disappear in the crowd. Her features softened but an instant. “They’ve lost Regis, they’ve lost the Crystal… Was it so long ago the last Oracle was taken from them? We’ve seen the empire go mad these then-odd years.”

The friends were given a date where the rite would take place, and until then they would have free time to prepare.

Ignis, Prompto and Gladiolus would help with the evacuation efforts and in trying to keep the empire away from Leviathan. The rest would have to unfold on its own.


	30. The Hydraean's Wrath

**BOOK 2: THE TALE OF THE CHOSEN KING**

**CHAPTER 18 – THE HYDRAEAN’S WRATH**

**The day of the rite.**

The Secretary’s monotone, cold voice felt like darts on her skin. After their first meeting upon Luna’s arrival, Mrs. Claustra hadn’t deigned herself to see the Oracle again. Not that Luna could blame her, knowing the chaos and destruction the Hydraean could unleash upon Accordo. However, Luna had met people like the Secretary before, and she knew that any gesture of kindness would be met, either with indifference, or taken as a sign of weakness.

The Oracle knew how weak she had grown during the previous weeks, as a result of the covenant with the other gods. She felt it day by day, the strength slowly leaving her hands or how small effort made her feel winded. But she couldn’t afford to let others see it, especially Mrs. Claustra, who had taken Luna’s strength as guarantee that the rite would go smoothly.

But, even so, the Secretary didn’t seem to trust her entirely.

“If worse comes to worst,” Mrs. Claustra advised her. “You can threaten to throw the trident into the sea. Then they’ll listen.”

The Trident of the Oracle was an ancestral weapon under custody at the Cathedral. It was said to have belonged to the first Oracle, the one who held witness to King Somnus’ rise to the throne. Luna clenched her fists, neatly arranged over her lap, ever so slightly. What this woman suggested was blasphemy.

However, it might work. Luna remembered how Chief Besithia had suggested tracking the ancient weapons of the Lucis line to discover the source of their power.

“In the meantime, it will be well guarded,” the Secretary assured, and then added a sharp, yet subtle remark. “Better than the Oracle herself.”

“Understood… I shall reclaim it at the altar.”

“Remember: you’ll be under imperial watch.”

“Right.”

“Think of it as a necessary evil in order to forge the covenant.”

“I am in your debt,” Luna said, bowing her head.

“Once it’s over,” the Secretary kept talking as if the Oracle hadn’t said a thing. “You may go as you please. But you do so without our protection.”

“So be it.”

“You had better be going,” the older woman advised, standing up and walking towards the door. “Your public is waiting for you.”

Luna watched in silence as the Secretary closed the door behind her. She prayed that the evacuation was efficient: Leviathan embodied all the viciousness of the wild sea, and she could level the entire city just by waking up.

She sighed, closing her eyes briefly before steeling herself. There was no turning back.

The door opened with a bang, and MTs stormed inside, surrounding her. Such had been her life ever since the empire invaded Tenebrae and burnt its forests, with soldiers surrounding her and guns’ muzzles mere inches from her head, whether if she was dining with her brother, or while she trained at the shrine. By the time she ascended to Oracle, it had been a long way since she had lost any fear to firearms.

This would be the last time.

She stood up and walked towards the door, back upright and firm steps, nonchalantly batting away a gun she knew wouldn’t fire at her.

**xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx**

Noctis made his way through the crowd gathered in Yureil Plaza. It seemed the whole city was there. His friends had phoned him: everything was ready.

The prince stopped at some point near the stairs, not too close, but not too far away. Suddenly the crowd erupted in enthusiastic clapping: Lady Lunafreya had appeared at last. He rushed forward, not caring if someone called him out for his rudeness. He just wanted to see Luna.

There she was, clad in white, as every Oracle before her, her golden hair shinning under the morning sun. He felt a shiver down his back when he heard her deep, musical voice reaching out to the public in front of her.

“Dear friends,” she started. “I stand before you today with little hope the words I speak… shall reach beyond these walls. For slowly, but surely, the Light fades from our world. And as it does, the shadows shall loom ever longer until all succumbs to the darkness. Darkness that evokes terror, hatred and sorrow in the hearts of men. The ashes of Lucis…” her voice wavered for an instant before recovering. “A dream of peace twisted into a nightmare of death and destruction, claiming innumerable lives and leaving myriad souls to suffer.”

He whispered her name, remembering that she had been there amidst the destruction of Insomnia, and he felt a pang in his chest.

“Yet I beg you,” Luna continued. “Do not surrender to despair. Have faith, for our gods watch over us. By their blessings, by the Stars that light the heavens above, our world will be delivered from the perils of the dark. I stand before you here, in Altissia, to call upon Leviathan, Goddess of the Seas, spirit of the deep. By the sacred rite, I will commune with the Hydraean. But first, I offer you my solemn vow. On my honor as Oracle, I will not rest until the darkness is banished from our world and the Light is restored.”

The crowd erupted in cheers once again and she bowed before them. Only one man didn’t applaud. Noctis was not only moved by her words: he felt over his shoulders the weight of his own guilt at not being at her side when she most needed him. He couldn’t help the tear rolling down his cheek, and he sworn she wouldn’t suffer anymore, for he would be at her side.

Her blue eyes finally came to rest on him, and she smiled, nodding briefly. He returned the salute, his hope on being reunited with her renewed. How he would have liked to warp at her side and run away then and there! But he could see already the shapes of the warships in the distance, surrounding the city.

**xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx**

The altar of the Tidemother consisted on a platform carved in white marble overlooking the Celluna Cascades at the other side of the Cathedral. Two columns of the same material flanked it, and a narrow disk, reminiscent of a solar disc during an eclipse, framed the whole structure. Its existence anteceded the formation of Accordo, and it was speculated that it was constructed during the ancient times of the extinct Solheim. Now it was a place of reverence with a restricted access, but historians suggested that it had served for mooring boats, and that the sea level was much higher before the War of the Astrals. The inclemency of the weather had affected it, though, breaking the top of one of the columns and part of the disk, creating the illusion of a waning moon.

Luna stood at the top of the altar, the Trident on her hand. Her clear voice rising as she intoned the incantation which would awake Leviathan. Before the last note died out, she felt a deep, terrible voice hitting her like a wave of icing water.

 _“What fool mortal dares break the slumber of the Tide!?”_ the voice boomed.

“It is I, Lunafreya, blood of the Oracle,” she declared, bowing in reverence. “Goddess of the Seas, I beseech you: enter into this covenant that the King might reclaim the Stone!”

The waters before her exploded as a giant serpent shoot upwards. The giant serpent, Leviathan, could easily wrap herself around the whole city, making a man a mere speckle in her eye.

 _“This wretched pile of bone and flesh, ignorant of that which governs All, comes to requisitions the might of a goddess?”_ The goddess roared.

“I do,” said Luna, not stepping back.

Above her head and around her, she could hear the imperial warships gathering around the bay.

**xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx**

Unable to enter the Cathedral through a direct route, Noctis had to find a vantage point from where to see Leviathan. He ran through the now deserted streets of Altissia, avoiding the MTs when possible, but having to fight most of the time. He received an urgent call from Ignis, informing him that the empire had the Hydraean surrounded.

He hastened through the galleries and terraces. The sky had acquired a strange deep green tint, and, when he finally got to a place overlooking the bay, he saw the gigantic shape of Leviathan, rising majestically as the Queen of the Seas that she was.

**xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx**

_“What does a lowly, ephemeral speck know of All Creation!?”_ Leviathan roared.

The Hydraean swung her heard towards the Altar, destroying what remained of the upper part. Luna neither flinched nor did she break eye contact with the goddess.

“I know what you must know… that the King of Kings is to drive the darkness from our star.”

Two spheres of water formed at each side of the Hydraean, and they shoot high-pressure liquid towards the Oracle. Luna blocked the attack with the Trident, but the momentum almost threw her to the ground. She tried standing upright once more, but her health was failing her, and she could but stagger back to her feet.

_“Blasphemous ingrates, all men, quick to forget the ages their goddess stood watch!”_

“It is in receiving mercy that men offer praise,” Luna insisted, clutching the Trident with all her might. “And in shedding grace that the gods solicit worship.”

 _“Yet this profane speck speaks her_ King _heresies before a goddess! Insufferable sacrilege!”_

Leviathan’s maw opened and closed around the Altar, and around the Oracle. A ray of golden light erupted from the marble platform, repelling her. Standing atop the Altar, Lunafreya held the Trident, the magic of the sacred spell still surrounding her like a shield.

“I vow the King will prove himself worthy!” she declared.

_“If not, then the Feeding shall begin, and it shall not end until every last speck is devoured! So let the covenant be forged. Heaven and Earth, High and Deep, Birth and Return…”_

As the goddess’ words echoed through the bay, a tidal wave formed a wall high as a mountain range around the city.

**xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx**

_“Noct! Prompto is headed your way!”_

“But what about you, guys?” he responded to Ignis, as he looked down at the bay from a balcony.

_“We’ll wait below… there’s only room for two.”_

He soon saw what Ignis was talking about. Prompto rode atop one of the giant lances the Niffs tried to immobilize Leviathan with, and it headed towards the balcony.

At a signal he jumped, landing next to his friend. The goddess, upon feeling the attacks from the empire, had come out of the water and now circled above the bay as if she was swimming in the sea.

They swung around, holding onto the imperial device while Noctis parried the attacks of the water avatars the Hydraean summoned. One sudden turn from the goddess put the device almost into her opened maw. Prompto steered the vehicle, and they saw themselves atop her head.

Noctis jumped then, and landed under the goddess’ eye. Almost blinded by the strong wind and the relentless rain, he pledged to the goddess for her power.

The gigantic head shook him away, and he landed heavily on the pavement among the ruined buildings.

He still saw her facing him. The goddess roared, and the wall of water turned into a whirlpool. She crashed against the buildings, destroying them, and her power made the debris and the ruined structures float in the air.

“So the only way you’ll help me is if I take you down?” Noctis murmured through gritted teeth.

Leviathan charged at him, but he warped out of reach. The floating buildings were a vantage for him.

He landed strike after strike, aiming at the head, the fins, whichever place he could reach, and tried not to think about Luna or his friends. But Leviathan was powerful and unyielding. Unlike Titan, who only wanted a show of capacity, or Ramuh, who acknowledged him on Luna’s word, Leviathan wanted a battle to the death. And, who could tame the tempest’s fury?

**xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx**

Luna watched Noctis’ fighting against Leviathan with growing restlessness. Noctis had acquired the power of other deities and part of the Royal Arminger, but as things stood, the Tidemother would mean too much for him.

She gasped when she saw Leviathan’s enormous head swinging and catching Noctis in the air, sending him tumbling to the ground. He barely moved.

Luna scrambled to her feet, searching for a way she could reach him among the debris. Her long skirt had torn up to mid-thigh: that would give her more freedom of movement.

However, her legs didn’t respond to her orders and she collapsed on the ground, coughing heavily. She couldn’t breathe and her sight blurred, the incessant roar of the sea deafened her and the rain made the floor too slippery for her feet. But she had to reach Noctis, no matter what. He was wounded, and she knew he could see her.

Luna clutched at the Trident and tried catching her breath. Just a little further…

Out of the corner of her eye, a dark form approached.

The first thing she saw was heavy footwear protected by leather gaiters and around it the hem of an unmistakable long, black coat.

“Now, about that ring…” Ardyn said casually as he sauntered around her.

She gasped, looking at him. Not now! Not the chancellor! If she was attacked, she would be powerless to defend Lucis’ heirloom.

“On second thought,” he smirked, kneeling to face her. “You let him have it.”

Steel shone on his hand for a moment, and in the next Luna felt the blade sinking in her side.

“And do remind him about the Crystal,” he softly whispered as he twisted the knife ever so slightly.

He suddenly pulled the knife out, and Luna collapsed, clutching at the wound in agony.

“Oh, Prince!” he yelled over the roaring waters. “Your bride awaits!”

She tried crawling back to a sitting position, pressing her hand to her abdomen.

“I will pass the ring,” she gasped. “To the rightful King…”

Ardyn slowly turned his face towards her, an amused smile on his lips. Quick as a snake, his right hand shoot forward, catching Luna’s chin and forcing her to look at him. She felt the mounting fear overcoming her pain as she was made to gaze at his face yet, as unreadable as those green-amber eyes were, she didn’t see any of the loathsome things she remembered from Caligo’s: things that had forced her to be swift of feet and quick of mind before that repulsive man could lay a hand on her.

Then Luna sensed something coming from the chancellor, and she understood. She wrapped her hands around his wrist, the golden light of her grace glowing softly, and he let go of her chin. It was a strange instant during which, maybe out of curiosity, he let her cradle his hand.

“When the prophecy is fulfilled,” she said, gazing at him as she did to every infirm who reached out to her. “All in thrall to darkness shall know peace.”

Ardyn’s smile vanished, and Luna saw something passing before his eyes. It was as fleeting as a raindrop in the wind, and it vanished even before appearing. He then snarled and backhanded her so hard he threw her to the ground.

He stomped past her towards a landing assault craft, and Luna could never see the moment when he gazed at the hand she had touched. Which thoughts or memories passed through his mind as he balled it into a fist, closing his eyes with a grimace, none alive could know. The moment was gone as quickly as it had come, and he was again Ardyn Izunia, Chancellor of Niflheim.

“How sweet…” he jeered at her. “But, please, Lady Lunafreya, you first.”

Ardyn made a mocking reverence when she turned her head to look at him, and swaggered his way to the opening doors of the craft.

Leviathan’s deafening roar brought her back to reality. She felt her life force slipping away, but Noctis needed her help. Without the Chosen One, the world would plunge into darkness to never see the dawn again.

Luna grabbed the Trident and held it upright; the pain at her side blurred her sight and rendered her unable to stand. She closed her eyes and prayed to the Kings of Yore, that they might lend their power to the Chosen by the Crystal for this trial.

Golden light shoot upwards from where she knelt and, all around Eos, the same golden light was born from the Kings’ tombs. Luna felt the Trident pulling away from her grasp and she let it go. Wielding it was the Chosen’s birthright. She looked up, and she saw Noctis shinning with the power of his ancestors, the ancient weapons orbiting around him as a shield.

**xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx**

The power of the Kings of Yore now pulsated in his body. It was a similar sensation as when he claimed the weapons of his ancestors, but this time it was like opening a door to a new world. The weapons obeyed his every command, and it seemed like there was no limit to what he could do. If the Tidemother would listen to neither mercy nor reason, she would have to listen to violence.

Noctis worn her out first, and then he attacked with each weapon in turn, cutting, bashing, piercing, until he left her bereft of one of her fins. Then he unleashed the whole arsenal in a myriad of explosions time and time again, flying around her, dodging her jaws, warp-striking her when she staggered after a strong attack, and little by little he brought down the mighty Leviathan, cutting her other fins and her horns.

The ancient weapons had to be used with restrain, for they drained the vitality of the wielder. However, Noctis willfully ignored that rule Cor and Ignis had warned him about, and unleashed their power without caring for his own life. He had been powerless to defend those he loved, and this time he would make sure it didn’t happen again. Luna had been wounded, his friends were still unaccounted for and that stupid goddess was only thinking about killing all humans just because she felt like it, forget the upcoming darkness and the threat it meant to all Creation.

The Tidemother roared in rage and pain as Noctis renewed his assaults, the weapons flying around him like blue comets. Leviathan had become desperate, summoning towers of water and avatars of herself, but none of those tricks could dent Noctis’ own wrath. She thrashed around her tail, submerged to emerge again, trying to catch him with his guard down. Nothing worked.

On her death throes, she lunged forwards, trying to swallow him. He used the weapons as a shield and repelled her attack, to then launch the whole arsenal towards her face in a huge explosion. Before the smoke cleared, Noctis charged with all his might, the Trident on his hand, and stuck it into the serpent’s throat. With a last effort, he drove the weapon all the way down to the sea level, opening the giant body in half. Leviathan let go a last howl, this time of pain, as water poured out from her insides.

“It’s done…” Noctis whispered, as he felt himself falling down.

His vision darkened and his hearing failed. Coldness came over him from within and he felt his heart slowing down, and he knew no more.

**xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx**

Luna saw him falling down, the power of the Kings still within him. His body came to rest on the Altar, at her side. She had seen what he had done, and she knew he was dying.

Gritting her teeth, she crawled towards him and, as quickly as she could, she grabbed his face and put her forehead against his.

“Blessed Stars of life and light…” she started intoning a reviving enchantment.

A roar interrupted the spell. Leviathan was still alive, and she seemed ready to finish what she had started.

Luna cradled Noctis’ body, shielding him from the water. The ground shook and a blinding light shone before the altar. Titan rose from the waters and faced the Tidemother, but she stood still. With a last howl, Leviathan bestowed her blessing upon Noctis. Titan drove his mighty fist onto the ocean and stone and rock walls rose at his command. It was time for Leviathan to retire. She merged with the wall of water she had created, and upon being dispelled, it formed a tsunami barely stopped by Titan’s wall. Even in defeat, the Queen of the Oceans knew nothing but destruction.

**xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx**

When he opened his eyes, he found himself on a prairie full of sylleblossoms.

“Noctis,” called a sweet voice he could recognize.

He looked around through his slowly clearing sight.

Luna stood in front of him. The Luna he remembered from when he was a young boy. She was smiling, as she always did when they were together.

“Luna?” his own voice was again that of a child.

“So, you found your way here.”

 _Here_ was the problem. He did remember the sylleblossom meadows, but it was never as hazy as it looked that time. And as silent. Where were the birds and the insects? When the sylleblossoms flowered it was time for the cicadas to sing and for the sun to shine in the sky.

“And you found me,” he said.

He saw in the distance some ruins. This was the place Luna loved taking him on strolls, and the place her mom would always chose to have a picnic with Noctis and his dad.

“A chance to see you once more,” she said, strolling around. “Who would have thought?”

He dusted himself from the dirt and stood up.

“What do you mean? Why wouldn’t you see me?”

“Because my prayers have been answered. My calling fulfilled.”

“But… that doesn’t have to come between us.”

She came closer and leaned forward to look at him in the eye.

“You are the One, Noctis. The Stars shine for you now. That which is your by right shall be restored to you.”

He didn’t understand. What had it to do with being together? And why was she acting so strange? But before he could speak she had turned her back to him.

“Do you remember the flowers of Tenebrae?” She mused as she strode away. “It seems so long ago. You’ll find they await you still, blooming from hill to vale.”

“Will you be there?” he asked, fearing to hear the answer.

She turned around to face him, and shook her head with sadness, even though her lips didn’t stop smiling.

The breeze picked up, shaking the flowers. It grew until it was a cold wind, like in a midwinter night, and it made Noctis shield his eyes, shards of ice biting at his skin. Luna’s white dress fluttered until suddenly it seemed to stop, as if frozen in time. When he opened his eyes again she was an adult, her dress floating around her as if…

As if they were underwater.

“Would that I could join you,” she grieved with a trembling voice, her golden hair around her head like a halo. The flowers dissolved in the wind, their dark blue color spreading in the air like ink in water, until all around them was of a blue color. “But this moment will have to be enough.”

Crystal fragments appeared around them, twinkling like jewels, though Noctis had no eyes for them.

“It’s not right,” he protested, but his voice faltered as tears began rolling down his cheeks. “All I… All I wanted… was to save you.”

One sylleblossom remained at Luna’s feet. Her graceful, pale hand picked it.

“When the world falls down around you,” she said, holding the flower. “And hope is lost. When you find yourself alone, amid a lightless place, look to the distance. Know that I am there, and that I watch over you always.”

Noctis’ raised his eyes to her, this time in fear. The current threatened to carry him away. He flailed with his arms and legs in desperation, trying to swim towards her. Her hand let go of the sylleblossom, which floated slowly towards him as darkness engulfed her.

“Farewell, dear Noctis,” she said with a smile.

He tried grasping at her dress, but the undercurrent was too strong, and he could only grab the flower, which transformed into the Ring in his now adult hands.

**xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx**

The soft, pale gold light of early morning filtered through the thin curtains. He stayed some moments there, laying in the bed, his mind a whirlwind. Breathing was harder than he thought, and his extremities flared in pain as he sat down on the bed. He gazed through the window: They were still in Altissia. However, Ignis, sitting on a nearby chair further away from the bed, centered his attention. His retainer sat giving his back to him, but turned his head upon hearing him moving.

“Back with us?” Ignis asked. Without waiting for an answer, he got up and turned to the prince. Why was he wearing dark glasses? “I’ll tell the others… though it may take a bit.”

Noctis’ eyes widened: Ignis’ left face was covered in ashen scars, and what he could see through the tinted glasses was that his eyes were closed.

“You’re hurt…”

“A small sacrifice in the greater battle,” he waved it away.

“And Luna?” Noctis asked in a small voice, terrified of the answer.

Ignis turned to the door. Not even bereft of his sight, his retainer dared to face him.

“She has passed,” Ignis simply said.

Noctis opened his trembling left hand. The Ring was there.

“Umbra left that for you,” Ignis pointed to the bed before feeling for the doorknob and leaving Noctis alone.

It was the notebook. The Prince flipped the pages anxiously until he reached the last one.

A pressed sylleblossom. No text.

His sight blurred with tears and he wept bitterly, cradling the Ring.

He was the King now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soo, yeah, we reached that chapter. Did my best to still convey that sense of hope until the very last moment. Luna trying to heal the chancellor was the tipping point when I guessed that Ardyn was far more than met the eye.


	31. Episode Ignis

**BOOK 2: THE TALE OF THE CHOSEN KING  
**

**CHAPTER 19 – EPISODE IGNIS**

“Noct! Do you read me!”

His desperate calling went unanswered. Struggling to keep his balance when the ground shook once more, Ignis kept his hand to the intercom, but nothing came through.

“Do you know if he’s okay?” Prompto asked, nearly out of breath. They had been running a long distance and it was the first time they stopped.

“The trial should be over by now, right?” said Gladio.

“I can’t tell a bloody thing from here,” Ignis lost his composure for a moment. “Let’s make for the Altar.”

They had stopped inside one of the covered footbridges connecting the streets of Altissia over the canals. Through the walls, they could hear the rumbling of the imperial warships.

The ground shook again and they heard the unmistakable roar of Titan, as he summoned the rock walls to deflect one last tidal wave from Leviathan. However, the shockwave threw several airships astray, sending them crashing down into the city. One of them smashed through the footbridge they stood in, splitting it in two. Gladio only had time to scream a warning and shove Prompto out of the way. When the dust cleared out, they saw that both Ignis and the footbridge had disappeared.

They searched frantically and tried contacting him, but there was no response.

Ignis had fallen with the bridge, but he was merely unconscious among the flotsam and jetsam. When he opened his eyes again he saw more airships rushing towards Titan. Swimming to shore, he tried contacting his friends.

 _“Iggy!”_ Prompto answered. _“I thought you were a goner.”_

“I’ll take more than a little seawater,” Ignis said, trying to keep a few stray bangs off his face. The water had washed out almost all his hair gel. Thank the gods he hadn’t lost his glasses too. “I’m more worried about Noct. I’ll find a way to the altar, but I need you to keep the enemy distracted.”

 _“You got it,”_ said Gladio. Ignis could almost see the grin on the warrior’s face.

With no time to lose, Ignis ran to an upper level to have a vantage point. Countless buildings were in ruins, rendering the city’s map he had committed to memory useless. He had to assess the situation from scratch.

MTs patrolled the streets already. The empire had lost no time in taking control of the city. Felling them would be more difficult for a lone man, but with a combination of nimbleness, magic powers and strategy, he slowly carved a path through the imperial forces.

Titan fought against the imperial fleet in the distance. Ignis prayed that the Archaean’s efforts were aimed to defend Noctis and Lady Lunafreya but, as things were, debris could still harm both humans.

One of the MTs he had just deactivated wore a modified arm with an extensible hook. It was a matter of tinkering with it to detach the hook piece and adjust it to his arm; that way it would serve as protection and a way of quick transportation. The first time he used it to reach a roof it felt as if his arm was being ripped out, but it was a matter of adapting oneself to the situation.

From his vantage point he witnessed a nightmarish scene: Titan batted away at the imperial ships as if they were flies, but the side effects of his overzealousness could prove fatal to both Noctis and Luna.

The imperials, in turn, fired heavily, further enraging the Archaean and, for every ship Titan fell, two came as replacement.

Ignis saw the column of golden light at the foot of the now destroyed altar, which meant that, at least, Lady Lunafreya was still alive.

“Be safe,” he murmured, silently offering a prayer for Noctis.

Looking down to the street, he could also see that the imperial forces had taken the city districts, compromising their chances to reach Noctis and the Oracle and lead them to safety.

Retaking the first district he had to cross was hard, with MTs troopers and MA war machines, and he hoped that altissian troops could do their part in other districts. Prompto and Gladio were also lending their help and creating a safe route to the port for the civilians.

When the last trooper fell on that street, he realized someone tried contacting him. Weskham’s deep voice resonated in his ear.

_“Weskham here. The empire has the Archaean surrounded… Until he smashes their ships, that is.”_

“And I need to get to the altar before that happens,” said Ignis, already searching for a route.

 _“You could try crossing the eastern bridge,”_ the older man offered. _“If it’s still standing.”_

“Here’s to hoping,” Ignis was already running in that direction. “I’m heading that way now… wish me luck.”

_“Fingers crossed.”_

As he hopped and climber over the debris, he called for Mrs. Claustra.

“Madam Secretary, come in!”

_“What now?”_

“I need your help: I fear Noct is in danger.”

 _“As is the entire city of Altissia, in case you havent’ taken a look around. He and his_ girlfriend _are probably long gone.”_

“No,” he answered, trying to keep his frustration in check. “I made a promise to keep him safe… a promise I intend to keep!”

 _“How noble. I’ll see what my men can do… but_ I _won’t promise anything.”_

Through Ignis could understand the Secretary’s concern about her city, her cold words felt like a slap in the face. Even so, she seemed to at least be willing to spare a few human resources.

He was near the bridge now. Only one more district to clean before he could reach the altar.

“Ignis here. Do you copy?”

 _“Loud and clear,”_ Prompto answered.

“What’s your status?”

_“Um, preoccupied?”_

_“And probably will be for a while,”_ Gladio intervened. It seemed like they also had trouble on their end.

“…Understood.”

He had to do it alone, then.

 _“What about…”_ Prompto’s voice suddenly cut.

“Prompto? Prompto! Do you copy?”

Probably the empire had jammed their communications. He didn’t want to think about the alternative and kept fighting. That district had more forces and it took far more time for him to clear out.

When he finally reached the bridge, Ignis saw two MA machines stationed there. The first one he finished off with a surprise attack with his lance, falling from one of the rooftops and sinking it on the “head” of the machine, disabling it for good.

The other proved to be more difficult with the surrounding MTs constantly firing at him. The hook gizmo showed its own usefulness there, allowing him to launch himself towards any enemy far from him. It wasn’t the same as Noctis’ warping, but Ignis wasn’t about to complain.

Once the soldiers were disabled he ran as fast as he could towards the bridge, but he hadn’t reached the middle section when he heard the whistle of an approaching missile. The bridge crumbled and sunk in the sea before his eyes. Had he been one second faster and he would have been hit.

Returning to the plaza, he stopped suddenly and hid behind a column: The High Commander and General Caligo were there, supervising the damage.

“Have you located the Ring yet, Commander?” said Lord Ravus. “And what of Lunafreya?”

“Both, High Commander, but our forces are unable to extract either at present. We’ve no way of approaching the altar so long as the Archaean stands in our way.”

“Even the gods are on his side…” Lord Ravus grumbled in frustration. “Neither the King nor the Oracle will escape with their lives if the fighting continues. Order a full retreat. I’m going in alone.”

“B-but, Sir…!”

From his hiding place, Ignis could see how Lord Ravus walked away, but he then turned around at his stammering subordinate and showed him his magitek arm.

“I assume you are already familiar with how I got this arm?”

“… Yes, Sir.”

“Then you must also know the Ring is worthless without one who can wield it.”

With that, Lord Ravus went away.

“How dare he address me with such impudence,” Caligo grumbled, but only once he was sure the other was out of hearing range. “Has he forgotten his place entirely? Or is he too concerned about his sister to care?”

Dissension inside the empire: those were good news, indeed. Ignis kept himself out of sight, observing how Caligo boarded an assault craft and went away, not without first deploying more soldiers.

Taking them down was costly. Each fight wore him down a bit more. Soon he would need some rest if he wanted to stand a chance.

Through his communicator, he heard the voice of the altissian commander issuing orders to the troops. The empire kept intensifying its attacks.

_“Attention all units: assemble at the docks and prepare for withdrawal immediately. We depart in three minutes.”_

“Wait…” he said, already running for the docks. “I’m headed to the altar. I need a boat!”

_“Have you lost your marbles?”_

“No… but we’ll lose the King if we don’t act!”

 _“Give him what he wants,”_ the Secretary’s cold voice mediated.

_“Understood.”_

“You have my thanks.”

 _“Keep them,”_ she said. _“I’ll take gil instead.”_

Such a cold, calculating woman. No matter. If she didn’t want to cooperate directly, at least she didn’t throw a spanner in the works.

Prompto’s voice reached him as he made his way over the rooftops.

_“Do you copy?”_

After some seconds, Gladio’s angry voice boomed through the radio.

_“Ain’t a hard question, Iggy. Do you copy… yes or no?”_

“Yes, I copy!”

 _“Then speak up next time!”_ the Shield yelled. Then he seemed to check himself. _“Look: I’m just as worried as you are, but we can’t go losing our heads. If we wanna save Noct, we’ve gotta keep it together.”_

“Yes… I suppose you’re right.”

 _“We’ll keep moving,”_ said Prompto. _“Hang in there, Iggy!”_

“I will… thanks.”

He had to cross one last district until he could reach the docks. This one wasn’t as populated, being far from the altar, so his fighting didn’t take that much time.

The docks were overcrowded with scared civilians, all waiting for the boats to sail away. Everywhere he looked he saw fear but, most of all, sadness. Probably the same feeling every insomnians had the day of the treaty. He took a brief rest there and then asked the altissian commander to brief him on the situation. After issuing more orders, Ignis finally took the speedboat they had prepared for him.

As he sped through the bay, dodging falling debris, he saw Titan punching his way into a dreadnought, tearing off one half of the propulsion motors and using them as a projectile against other dreadnoughts. Paradoxically, the safest place was at the Archaean’s feet, and so Ignis steered the boat towards the god, near the column of golden light.

A falling assault craft fell near the boat, capsizing it. Ignis swam with all his strength and emerged, to see another ship approaching. This one opened its doors to reveal a MA-X type bipedal machine and at its feet, General Caligo.

 _“Well, well,”_ the General gloated through the MA-X’s speakers, no doubt recognizing Ignis. _“Look who it is! What could one of His Majesty’s royal retainers be doing here of all places?”_

Before Ignis could say anything, the airship shoot at him.

_Bloody hell…_

He swam, praying that Titan’s movements affected air currents enough to destabilize the airship and make it err its aiming, as it seemed to be happening.

_“I must thank you for your visit to Fort Vaullerey. Do allow me to express my gratitude!”_

_This bodes ill…_

Half swimming, half diving, he reached the speedboat at last.

 _“Surrender now,”_ Caligo said. _“And I’ll ensure your end is as painless as possible.”_

Ignis could almost see Gladio giving that general the finger. He, however, wouldn’t bestow that effort on that man.

“Never!” he yelled, starting the boat and dashing past the airship.

Caligo wasn’t slow, and he boarded his own MA-X to pursue him through the bay.

One of the very few things Ignis admired of that general was that he wouldn’t keep quiet. As annoying as his taunts were over his war machine’s speakers, he gave away precious information, like the fact that he intended to keep the Ring for himself.

Ignis navigated the boat inside the city canals to mislead Caligo, but what the general lacked in cunning he made it up with brute force and ammunition. One of the missiles finally hit too close to Ignis’ boat, the explosion launching the retainer into solid ground.

“The Ring will _never_ be yours,” Ignis declared, getting to his feet and throwing away the busted communicator. “I’ll make sure of it!”

_“You shall rue the day you defied the Niflheim Empire!”_

They had landed on a taken district, and the soldiers instantly took aim at him. As he dodged their attacks and delivered his own, he could hear Caligo taunting him.

_“Go on, Beg for your life… just like that pathetic old servant did back in Lestallum.”_

There was no way Jester would have supplicated for his life. Ignis knew that all too well, but Caligo’s words still fanned his already altered nerves. There had been enough delays without rampaging gods, headstrong Secretaries, bothersome imperial soldiers and now this ranting madman.

Caligo wanted his taunts to make him blunder, but the only thing he achieved was making Ignis sharper, as every time he was under high pressure. The general saw with horror and surprise how that royal retainer, without any help, made short work of the MTs, and later came for his MA-X.

It was his turn to blunder the machine’s movements and aim, and he felt with dismay how all systems failed before it collapsed.

The impact threw him into the controls and, despite his armor, he felt something breaking inside his torso. Laboriously climbing down his magitek armor before it could explode, he gritted his teeth as he staggered his way to the ground.

What Ignis could see while he tried to catch his breath was Caligo emerging from the wreckage, limping away one moment, the next a saber thrust from behind through his stomach. The general turned around when his attacker pulled out the blade, and was slashed across the face. He fell heavily on the ground and didn’t move anymore.

Ignis mustered his strength to stand up again when he saw Caligo’s killer slowly stepping out from behind the machine. Lord Ravus spared a brief glance to the fallen general, and made a slight grimace of disgust before centering his attention on Ignis.

Seeing the High Commander slowly approaching him, blade still unsheathed, Ignis invoked his own daggers, and adopted a fighting stance. MTs surrounded them, all pointing their guns at him.

_More delays._

He saw through the corner of his eye an MT Axeman lifting his weapon to attack him. At the same time, Ravus lunged forward. Ignis tried to cover himself, but he could only decide which side he would protect. To his surprise, Ravus sidestepped him at the last second and stabbed the axeman, disabling him in one hit.

Ignis didn’t abandon his defensive stance, despite the unexpected development. There were still MTs surrounding them.

“I’ve no quarrel with you, boy,” Ravus said, stepping to stand back to back with him. “Join me. I can secure us a way to the King and the Oracle.”

“How do I know I can trust you?”

“Have you any other options?”

“You have a point,” Ignis conceded, throwing a blade towards an MT.

That was the cue for the battle to start.

It was a strange feeling to fight alongside a man who had previously antagonized them and, in addition, obeyed the chancellor without so much as a protest. Ravus was, indeed, a very skilled warrior, no doubt after intensive training at Tenebrae as a child, and then under imperial tutelage. But, despite his strength, he was as graceful as he was deadly. MTs stood no chance against him, and before Ignis could notice it, the battle was over.

“You might be of use after all,” Ravus offered a thin smile as he cleaned his sword before sheathing it. “Follow me… if you’re ready.”

Lunafreya’s brother led him through a series of bridges and passageways. Ignis thought he recognized the layout, but with so much fallen debris it was difficult to fathom which street they traversed at what moment.

They finally reached a plaza surrounded by fallen buildings. It was bustling with soldiers and magitek machines. Ignis was about to lunge forward, but he noticed Ravus stopping and sitting down on the stone steps, just behind a balustrade.

“You needn’t waste your time,” the High Commander said. “I’ve ordered a full retreat. They’ll be gone soon enough.”

Ignis followed his example and sat down with him, waiting. “Why turn against the empire?” he asked. “Why now?”

“My sister’s life is at stake,” Ravus’ eyes flared. “Is that not enough reason? The paths we tread may differ, but the blood coursing through our veins is one. So, too, is our calling. I must protect her.”

At that moment, Ignis noticed that Ravus wasn’t as he had seen in pictures. Ignis remembered him as blond and blue-eyed, while the man before him he saw had now silver hair, and his left eye had acquired a violet tone. Could that be the side effects of the Ring? Or maybe the magitek prosthetic?

“What of it?” Ravus asked defiantly. He surely had noticed Ignis staring at the artificial arm.

“I have doubts that you were born with a prosthetic.”

“Your doubts are correct,” he answered, gazing at his left hand. “I once believed it was I who was destined to dispel the darkness. This is proof I was wrong.”

Airships rumbled over their heads. While Ignis looked up with concern, Ravus paid them no heed.

“…is it safe to assume this means you’ll lend Noct a hand?” Ignis asked cautiously.

“Don’t be asinine,” Ravus scowled. “Our interests may have aligned in this moment, but I have not allied myself with _him_.”

The way he spat that last word meant more than any barrage of obscenities. Ignis saw that there was no reasoning with Ravus, and remained silent as the two men watched the imperial army retreating.

“The empire is after the Ring of the Lucii,” Ravus said as the last airship departed. “If the Ring falls into the wrong hands, I fear there’s little hope for either of them.”

“Then we must hurry.”

Though the main forces had retreated, there were still magitek armors patrolling the area. The two unlikely allies had to work together to take them down silently, lest they would give out their position.

With Ignis disabling their legs and Ravus jumping on top of them to deactivate the main control, they could pass undetected.

“Don’t get on my way,” Ravus said when Ignis had thrown his spear towards the third MA, which was about to shoot Ravus point blank.

“So long as you stay out of mine.”

They followed the path Ravus had pointed out before. It was impossible to even think there had been a city full of people and bustling shops just hours before.

“Tell me,” said Ravus at one point. “Do you truly believe Noctis is the one True King?”

“I _believe_ it goes without saying.”

“Yet when the flames of war enshrouded Tenebrae, his father spared us nary a second thought,” Ravus said through gritted teeth. “No _savior king_ could possibly be born of such cowardice.”

“To aid the King is the Oracle’s calling, is it not? Or have you simply forgotten the pledge sworn by your forebears?”

“I have not forgotten… nor have I forgiven.”

Ignis said nothing. He recalled the tragedy at Tenebrae, and how the news reached them, days after the events. More days had to pass by until the King returned, aided by the Hunters, with the prince in his arms. After that, Noctis would never be the same again.

It had been too much for such a young child to witness. At that moment, Ignis remembered that Ravus couldn’t have been more than twelve, old enough to start training with weapons, yet still a child. All those years must have been extremely trying for the young Lord of Tenebrae, having to live under the tutelage of his mother’s murderers, unable to fight back. He then directed his anger towards the ones who, according to him, had attracted the empire’s attention and caused his mother’s death.

The retainer knew how flawed Ravus’ logic was. He also knew better than disagreeing with him: A heart so full of rage knew no reason.

They reached a district near the altar, according to Ravus, and more MTs and magitek armors were waiting for them. Fighting was far easier with a companion, even if it was under a shaky alliance.

“You alright?” Ravus asked Ignis when the last MA exploded.

“Well enough.”

“You’re resilient… I’ll give you that,” Luna’s brother conceded, then his face became grim again. “If Noctis _is_ the True King, he still has much to prove. The darkness will not wait for his ascent. It will consume our star and all upon it.”

“I know… He may not yet grasp the gravity of his calling, but once he does, he will rise to the occasion and fulfill his destiny!”

“One can only hope you’re right,” Ravus said impassively, impervious to Ignis’ vehemence.

They could see already the altar and the column of light, and no more enemies guarded the path ahead. Upon Leviathan’s departure, heavy clouds had covered the sky and a persistent rain made the ground dangerously slippery.

“Noct!” Ignis yelled when they reached the stairs leading to the base of the altar.

“Lunafreya!” Ravus rushed forwards without waiting for an answer.

Ignis followed him, but stopped suddenly when he noticed a white dog limping from behind the rubble.

It was Pryna. As one of Lady Lunafreya’s guardians, she had been defending the Oracle from any harm. The effort had drained all her strength, and now she collapsed at Ignis’ feet. A bright light engulfed her and in the next instant, she was gone.

He ran after Ravus, and found him standing at the source of the golden light, now a mere beacon instead of a column. Ignis made to rush for his friend, but stopped when he saw Ravus’ expression. Following his gaze, he saw Noctis lying on his back, as if sleeping, while Lady Lunafreya held her hand to his shoulder. The spell she had been casting had been the source of the light all along. While Noctis breathed normally, the Oracle didn’t stir, though a sweet smile graced her lips.

At that moment the light died out: Lady Lunafreya had spent all her remaining life energy on saving Noctis’ life.

“No…” Ravus whispered as tears ran down his cheeks.

The High Commander staggered towards his sister, his voice trembling with rage.

“First, the Lucians stole from me my mother…” he hissed, unsheathing his sabre. “And now they make a sacrifice of my sister!”

Ravus lifted his blade, but Ignis put himself between the blade and Noctis.

“Get out of my way!” the High Commander thundered.

“What are you doing?”

“What I should have done long ago: ridding us of this menace!”

Ignis shoved Ravus away from Noctis and into the previous section of the bridge.

“Stand in my way and you, too, shall meet the same fate: death!” Ravus roared, charging his sabre with lightning magic thanks to his artificial arm.

“Come to your senses, man!”

Ravus was incredibly strong and quick. Had it been the first time he saw him fight, Ignis would have been in serious trouble, but having fought together gave him enough information to, at least, keep up with him. The high commander’s unrestrained fury, however, was an unexpected handicap.

“I understand the pain you must be feeling, but Noct isn’t the one who did this to her!”

“Oh, yes, he is!”

“Lady Lunafreya came to her King’s aid in his time of need. She was fulfilling her calling!”

“Don’t try to justify this!” Ravus accumulated power with his artificial arm before unleashing an electrical discharge. “She didn’t need to die!”

Ignis barely dodged the lightning strikes, and yet he felt a jolt on his leg; the wet ground only served to power Ravus up.

“Kill him, and her sacrifice will have been for naught. Kill him, and you kill her hopes for the future!”

“What hope is there in a future that my sister will never see? Step aside now, or I’ll cut my way through!”

“Noct didn’t choose to become King; his ascension was ordained by the Crystal! It wasn’t mere happenstance!”

“It was a mistake… one that must be corrected!”

“You of all people must understand how Noct feels: bereft of both parents, and forced to carry on despite losing those you love. You both feel that pain!”

“I feel nothing!”

Ravus’ attacks had become desperate and he was making small mistakes, some which Ignis could exploit despite his own tiredness. Little by little, he wore the High Commander down, until the later slipped and fell to the ground. That was the moment Ignis was waiting for: with a tremendous effort, he drove one of his daggers through the artificial arm, pinning it down to the ground.

The two young men remained there, breathing heavily after the fight. The drizzle was now a heavy rain and the day had almost died. Visibility would be a problem in a matter of minutes if they didn’t find a light source.

Slowly, Ravus staggered to his feet and limped towards his sister, Ignis’ dagger still stuck on his arm. He knelt at Luna’s side and pulled her into his embrace, cradling a body which was quickly growing cold.

“I always knew,” he said softly. “That you would face your fate without fear, fulfill your duty without regret. But… part of me always hoped… that I might see you happy one day. Your burdens lifted, free to live and love as you please.”

His human fingers brushed some stray golden locks away from her face.

“You would have made a beautiful bride,” he lamented, pulling her close to him as a golden light surrounded her body. Ignis watched Ravus’ sister disappearing in that light, to be reformed at a distance, over the still restless sea.

“Even in death, the Oracle does not rest,” Ravus continued, gazing at the phantasmal figure of her dear sister. “Only once the darkness is dispelled is her calling truly fulfilled. And, as in life. I know she will confront that challenge with a smile on her face.”

She looked as she did when she was alive: beauteous and pure, her blue eyes gazing at her brother, and smiling sweetly at him before disappearing.

“Oh, Sister… Please don’t go,” the High Commander begged, stretching his human arm towards her, uncaring of someone else witnessing that moment of childish weakness. “Please,” he whispered, tears bathing his cheeks. “Don’t leave me.”

He lifted his human hand in rage to strike at the ground, but checked himself. Harming his only good hand wouldn’t do any good. His wrath spent, the High Commander and Lord of Tenebrae wept.

Ignis said nothing, understanding that he was seeing a man who had lost everything, and for whom nothing mattered anymore. He, on the other hand, had saved Noctis, but a heavy weight had set on his chest.

His friend was asleep, spent after his own battle with the Hydraean, but aside from that, he was unharmed. Now it was a matter of calling the others to take him out of there.

“Iggy!”

Gladiolus splashed his way towards them.

“Gladio! Are you alright? Where’s Prompto?”

But the Shield seemed to ignore him and spared not a single glance towards Noctis. Instead, his eyes fell on the grieving form of the High Commander. With slow steps and a grin slowly creeping up his face, he approached him.

“Well well,” he gloated. “Look what have we here?”

Without a second thought, Gladio brandished his greatsword and swung it at Ravus, who already had his sabre on his hand to parry his attack.

“You…” Ravus hissed when he repelled the attack. “Ardyn!”

The other chuckled, shaking his head.

“Oh, dear,” he said in a theatrical tone. “Was I that transparent?”

Gladio’s hand passed before his face, and it was Ardyn Izunia standing on his place. As if waiting for their cue, MTs stormed the place, effectively knocking and pinning down both men. His face pressed against the wet floor, Ignis could only see the chancellor’s heavy footwear approaching him.

“The game’s up, my boy,” he said.

The next thing Ignis saw and felt on his face was Ardyn’s boot.

**xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx**

When he came to his senses, the chancellor was still there, like in a bad dream you cannot wake up from. This time he squatted in front of him, holding a dagger on his left hand. Ignis tried to fight back, but the MTs’ grasp was unyielding and his glasses had been no doubt smashed and discarded somewhere else.

“Come now,” Ardyn mocked him. “Why not follow your liege’s lead and stop resisting?”

“…Never!”

“You risked life and limb to safeguard the _King of Kings_ ,” Ardyn stood up and sauntered towards the fallen Noctis. “Only to witness him fail so spectacularly. You must be so disappointed.”

“Unhand him!” Ignis roared when he saw the chancellor grabbing Noctis by the back of his neck, exposing his throat. Ravus was just beyond them, also struggling to free himself from his restrains.

“Oh, what good is a world that only ever lets you down?” Ardyn kept taunting him. “Why not end it all right here?”

“No… You can’t…”

Ignis yelled Noctis’ name as the chancellor raised the dagger, ready to strike.

At that moment a glitter of steel flew over the chancellor’s head, catching his hat and pinning it to the ground. It was the dagger Ignis had struck Ravus with. The High Commander had come free from his restrains, and was now gazing defiantly at the chancellor.

“My, you two certainly have become fast friends,” Ardyn sneered at him as he stood up, unceremoniously dropping Noctis’ unconscious form on his face. The movement opened the king’s hand, and the Ring rolled free towards Ignis.

Ardyn caught his hat but, instead of wearing it again, he put it on one of the MTs, patting it as if it was a dog. He silently swaggered towards Ravus, who stood boldly among the MTs. Then, from the chancellor’s right hand sprouted a dark flame; the dark spell hit Ravus square in the chest, sending him flying towards the stairs where he crashed and fell to the ground, unconscious.

“Permit me to make a suggestion,” Ardyn told Ignis, playfully waving the dark flame around. “Rather than follow this flotsam and float away to a watery grave, why not come with me? What do you say?”

Treason. Of course, that was his game. He surely wanted him, who was very close to Noctis, to surrender his will to him.

Ignis’ mind raced as his green eyes gazed at the hand Ardyn extended on his direction. He could play along to see what he was planning but, what assured him that whatever intelligence he could extract from this man could be safely delivered to Noctis? What if it was the other way around? Ignis’ had faith on his own resilience and will power, but there were chemicals to override every barrier in the brain.

Then some memories surfaced. Back at the Meldacio HQ, where they had sought refuge, he heard about the Hunters working hand in hand with what remained of the Kingsglaive. One story stood out in particular for him: the Hunters told him about the last Glaive to evacuate the Crown City, who told anyone who would listen about his comrade, who used the Ring of the Lucii to save both the jewel and Lady Lunafreya, and the man who, after the magic of King Regis died, asked the Kings of Yore for their power, and fought alone against the empire.

The price had been that Glaive’s life.

Ignis had scoffed at such tale, for in times of need is when the most fantastic stories are created. But later, when he commented it to Noctis, the prince confessed that he already knew the story, and that it wasn’t just a legend. During that secretive reunion with the marshal, Noctis had come into contact with the very man the Hunters had talked Ignis about, and the prince could even give the full name of both the surviving Glaive, and the one who used the Ring.

Now the Ring sat quietly in front of him and he had been given a choice, but it wasn’t the one the chancellor proposed.

_The price was his life._

For Ignis, it was a small fee.

With a lurch, he shook away the MTs’ restrains. Ardyn, always curious about what would a cornered rival would do, ordered the soldiers to stand back and let that young man do.

“I’ll take that as a no,” the chancellor smirked, preparing his spell.

“I swore and oath to stand with Noct and keep him safe,” Ignis declared. Those words made the spell on Ardyn’s hand die out, as did his smirk, but the chancellor’s gaze was aimed at the small jewel the retainer displayed on his hand.

“Whatever it takes, I _will_ protect him!” Ignis proclaimed, putting on the Ring.

The chancellor snickered at the younger man’s foolishness.

“Ah-ah-ahhh!” he tut as he saw the Ring’s light engulfing Ignis, who started screaming in pain. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Then his chuckle turned into open laughter.

“I… may not be of royal blood,” Ignis gasped through the pain. “But if a Glaive can harness its power, then so can I!” He raised his face to the heavens and shouted: “Kings of Lucis, lend me your strength!”

He felt the power overflowing his system: the pact had been made. The last thing he saw before his eyes burned away was the motionless form of Noctis on the ground.

Ardyn waited patiently for him to finish, perhaps expecting his to burst in flames. All the better for him to reap the Ring from a heap of ashes. But instead, that young man stood upright, his hands and eyes glowing with a borrowed power. Ignis warped to the place he and Ravus had fought, and Ardyn followed him.

“Well, They’ve shown you their favor after all,” the chancellor hissed, very unamused, at least for the moment.

Ardyn launched a wirlwind of dark energy at him, but Ignis was protected by the power of the Kings. And even if his eyes had been taken, the Kings had bestowed a temporary sight for this battle.

“Well?” Ardyn taunted him. “If you’re so keen on keeping him safe, I’d like to see you try.”

MTs joined the fray, as Ardyn dodged his attacks instead of defending himself.

“No time to waste, now,” he taunted Ignis. “If you aren’t quick about it, _you’re_ the one liable to wind up dead!”

The chancellor was infuriatingly quick, and Ignis understood why he walked around unarmed: he was as adept with his fists as Noctis with his sword, and once or twice Ignis had to duck his blows.

But Ardyn was right; the power of the Kings was limited and, once it ran out, the pact would be over. He would be blind and powerless while the chancellor would still have the upper hand.

“How lucky to be surrounded by such skilled advisors,” Ardyn jeered when a squad of MTs fell from a transport ship and surrounded Ignis. “What a pity they’re all too soft to show him the tough love he needs.”

He was talking about Noctis. Why the obsession with him?

The Ring’s powers quickly drained his energy, and that was a side-effect he didn’t foresee. So much for the Kings’ help to defend the Chosen One.

“Why not cease this futile charade?” Ardyn asked, dodging a fire spell. “Your appeals to hope and loyalty will all come to naught in the end.”

“No… You’re wrong!”

He used lightning, and then ice, but the chancellor merely brushed them aside. Ignis felt his strength waning. Time was up, and Ardyn knew it. His sight started to blur, and then to fade. When he blundered through some attacks, he heard the chancellor chuckling in delight.

“Whew! Wasn’t that exhilarating? I think that’s enough for one day.”

Ignis fell to his knees, powerless once more. He could barely see forms now. Shadow figures walked past him with metal clanging, and Ardyn went away without so much as a coup de grâce.

“Noct…” he murmured, feeling his way towards the broken stair to the altar.

He stumbled and limped until he fell, rolling on his back to face a sky he couldn’t see anymore. But he could feel the hard, wet ground on his back. The coldness and weariness were now creeping on him, and he started shivering.

Footsteps coming from the stairs’ direction. Rustle of cloth and metal.

“That was rather reckless,” Ravus’ voice sounded near him.

“Where’s Noct?” he could hardly articulate. “Is he… alright?”

“More or less… all thanks to you.”

“Thank goodne…” a fit of cough caught the words on his throat.

More footsteps. These ones of people running, coming from the other direction.

“Iggy!” that was Gladio. “Where are you?”

“Noct! Iggy!” Prompto was there too.

“Be still,” Ravus told him. “Conserve your strength. You’ve a calling to fulfill.”

Ignis heard his friends approaching. More rustling of metal and cloth.

“As I do,” Ravus said as he walked away. “May fortune favor us both. And you as well, Noctis.”

Ignis could never see the Lord of Tenebrae crossing paths with his friends, how Gladio stopped to see him past for a fraction of a second before rushing to Ignis and Noctis. But he felt Gladio’s fingers prodding his neck for a pulse, and he heard Prompto’s urgent calling for medical help. However, the only thing on his mind was Noctis.

“Please…” he whispered, turning his face to where he thought Noctis was. “Forgive me…”

He blacked out. His friends carried him and Noctis to a safe place procured by the Secretary. It took him many hours to wake up, and some more time to be able to walk on his own, and when he did, Prompto wouldn’t leave his side. It was a bit tedious, having someone walking you around, but the boy wouldn’t budge. Thankfully, both he and Gladio were required to assist the altissians, and he would have some time to, at least, wait until Noctis was awake.

And, while he waited, he had plenty of time to reflect on all that had transpired.

Chancellor Izunia could use magic, no doubt with the aid of magitek technology. That would pose a very serious danger.

Ignis had always been quite good at not letting his emotions get the better of him, but during those days he had to make a conscious effort to keep his composure. Just when his friends and his king need him the most, he was wounded and in the way. With no other task to fulfill, Ignis sat at Noctis’ bedside, and listened to the quiet, rhythmical breath of the young man.

Soon, memories resurfaced, like the first time he met the prince that was now king. Ignis was but a child at the time, but he already understood the gravitas of being a servant of House Lucis. One day, King Regis sent for him, something Ignis had never expected. He waited stoically for either a scolding or instructions but, instead, His Majesty gave him a lecture.

Ignis couldn’t forget that morning: the sunlight bathed the throne room in a warm light and made the dark marble glitter like black ice.

 _“Listen well,”_ the King said. _“A king cannot lead by standing still. A king pushes onwards always, accepting the consequences and never looking back. That said, a king can accept nothing without first accepting himself.”_ He stepped aside, to beckon a timid black haired boy, much younger than Ignis. With a gentle push, the kid stepped forward, unsure of what to do. _“Should he stand still, I ask you stand by him and lend him a hand… as his friend… and as his brother. Please, take care of my son.”_

Ignis remembered stretching out his hand, and the kid taking it between his. His shy demeanor turned into a bright smile and, from that day on, they were inseparable. The now adult retainer couldn’t help a slight, sad smile remembering how Noctis behaved very much like a rowdy little brother, and how many times Ignis had to cover up for the young prince’s mischief. Except for that one time when little Iris got lost.

He would have wanted to keep protecting his King a bit longer. Ignis wasn’t a man prone to fantasize, since the only things which really mattered to him were facts and the present moment. However, he sometimes envisioned a future where King Noctis reigned alongside Queen Lunafreya, and Ignis would be always one step behind His Majesty, yet one step ahead in terms of planning, until Noctis was old enough to retire and surrender the Crown and the Ring to his heir.

Now Lady Lunafreya had been murdered, something Ignis dreaded to disclose to Noctis. Prompto and Gladio seemed to hold up well, but he had heard the strain in the Shield’s voice the few times they could talk. Now, the Ring was safe but, what course of action would be the correct one?

Finally, one morning, Noctis woke up, and Ignis had to deliver the grim news. The king took them rather poorly, as was expected. The retainer left him some time to, at least, try to come to terms with the new situation, and then Ignis would visit him again: There was something the retainer had been mulling over while Noctis was asleep.

“How are you feeling?” he asked when he entered the room, later that day.

The king answered with a half-hearted grunt. Tears had given way to bad-temperedness.

Ignis walked slowly until his feet bumped into a stool, where he sat.

“Noct. Perhaps it might be best if we brought our journey to a close.”

“Why?” suddenly Noctis didn’t sound lethargic anymore, but anxious.

“It’s just that…” he sighed wearily. “We’ve already lost so much. _Too_ much.”

“Are you kidding me? That’s exactly why I have to keep going… because if I give up now, their sacrifices would have been for nothing! And you… you, of all people… You should know better than anyone.”

He couldn’t see Noctis, and he noticed his voice sounded as if it was about to crack, yet the young man could control himself. The boy had taken many blows, but he was still the King.

Slowly, Ignis got up and walked to the door.

“The decision in yours and yours alone. But do remember we will stand with you always.” And yet, his own voice sounded seemed to Ignis as drained and belonging to a much older man. “And help you bear your burdens. Don’t be afraid to let us share the load.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A monster of a chapter, I know, but Iggy deserves it. It was fun writing from his POV. it was also fun tweaking some of the things mentioned and shown in this chapter that spoil the entire ending.


	32. The Heart of a King

**BOOK 2: THE TALE OF THE CHOSEN KING  
**

**CHAPTER 20 – THE HEART OF A KING**

The days following Leviathan’s wrath were difficult for everyone. Half Altissia lain in ruins, and all the inhabitants had to run away to the mainland. Few were returning, many of them preferring to try and reconstruct what little the Tidemother had left behind.

Noctis’ disposition mirrored the atmosphere, and he barely spoke anymore. More than once, Gladio was about to lecture the now king, but Prompto prevented him from doing so. The overall mood of the whole group had soured greatly: Noctis was depressed, Gladio was furious at his attitude, Ignis tried to carry on with his own duty while adapting to his new situation, and Prompto didn’t know what to do, except helping Ignis in whatever the retainer would need.

They sailed back to the mainland, drove to a station and boarded the train which would take them to Gralea, Niflheim’s capital. It took them several weeks to reach Cartanica, a former mining town in Niflheim’s territory. Cor Leonis had contacted them to inform that the Hunters had located another Royal Tomb inside the quarry.

The landscape didn’t do much to lift anyone’s spirits. An expanse of rocky wasteland where the eye could see, Cartanica had once been a prosperous territory rife with natural resources. However, the imperial magitek mass production needed copious amounts of oil and coal, and they drained all the resources, leaving the town bereft of its natural supplies and of human life. A train still stopped at the station, nonetheless, but the visitors were scarce, if any.

“So…” Prompto timidly attempted having a normal conversation. “We’re gonna roll through Tenebrae.”

“Not before visiting the royal tomb in Cartanica,” Ignis informed him, knowing only the two of them were willing to say a word. Noctis was sitting separately, as was Gladio, though they still traveled in the same train car.

“You sure you’re up to that?”

“The wounds have mended. Eyesight’s a matter of time.”

Gladiolus got up and walked towards Noctis.

“The hell is wrong with you?” he grumbled.

“What?” Noctis slowly raised his eyes, as if he didn’t understand the question.

“We’re not stopping in Tenebrae,” the Shield announced. “You need to grow up and get over it.”

Noctis sprung to his feet to face him, his voice was trembling with fury.

“I am over it. I’m here, aren’t I!?”

Gladio grabbed him by his jacket’s lapels.

“Maybe when you’re not busy moping, you can look around and give a shit about someone worse off than you,” he said, referring to Ignis.

“Let go of me,” Noctis hissed through clenched teeth.

“How’s that ring fit ya? You’d rather carry it around than wear it? She gave her life so you could do your duty, not so you could sit around feeling sorry for yourself.”

“You don’t think I know that!?”

“You don’t! Ignis took one for you too, and for what!?”

“Enough, Gladio!” the retainer intervened.

Ignis’ warning was enough to lower the tension, but only so much. Gladio clicked his tongue in frustration.

“You think you’re a king,” he said in a lower tone. “But you’re a coward.”

“Shut up!” Noctis snarled and grabbed the bigger man by his jacket.

Prompto tried to mediate, bot Gladio shoved him aside.

“I get it, alright!?” Noctis yelled, pushing at him and barely making the Shield back half a step. “I get it!”

“Then get a grip! Pull your head outta your ass already!”

Noctis stormed away from his friends. Prompto tried going after him, but Gladio told him to leave him, before stomping his way out of the car.

Huffing, the king plopped in a seat as far as possible from them. They couldn’t understand. They just couldn’t understand.

A trembling hand came out of his pocket. The Ring sat on his palm as if mocking him. So much blood because of that jewel. So many sacrifices. Everyone he loved most was no more, and he never got to say goodbye to any of them.

Closing his hand and gritting his teeth, he tried to hold back his tears.

**xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx**

Cartanica station was more desolate than any of them could expect. Located in the middle of a rocky desert, the scorching sun burned away everything and everyone not sitting in the shade.

There were few passengers and travelers going back and forth, most of them forced to take that route after daemons had taken over other shorter, formerly more secure ones. Days were getting shorter too. According to his watch it was midday, yet the sun was already well on its way to dusk.

A few meager food stalls offered what little products they could cook. Another stall offered potions and defense items. The station cafeteria wasn’t much better: imperial servings meant just enough calories to sustain a sedentary adult, and definitely left a lot to desire in terms of taste. Still, there were some local patrons who preferred to dine there than at home. Far from what some inhabitants of conquered territories had expected, the imperial expansion hadn’t brought any prosperity to its inhabitants, and now everyone had to eat like a soldier from a poor country.

Noctis’ phone buzzed. It was Cor.

_“I take it you’ve arrived safely, Highness?”_

“Yeah. Now I’ve just gotta find out where this royal tomb is.”

_“Look no further than the Fodina Caestino. There should be an elevator leading down to the quarry from the station.”_

“Roger.”

_“Good luck… and hold your nose.”_

“What?” but Cor had hung already. “Thanks for the advice, I guess?”

There was, as the marshal said, and elevator leading down to the quarry. It was mostly used by Hunters seeking some challenge, or on a hunting mission. Noctis and his friends gathered at the door and, without a word to each other, began descending to the mine.

Fodina Caestino had been an open pit mine, but now it was a den of monsters and, at night, a hive of daemons. A broad path circled it downwards following the rocky wall. Rusted safety rails still survived, yet battered and twisted at some points and, in others, they didn’t exist altogether. Dilapidated bulldozers lain before mounds of sand and dirt, as if the workers had suddenly fled one day. Maybe some sort of monster had been the real reason behind the quarry’s abandonment.

Deep down, rainfall pooled in places, making it home for amphibian creatures and, in the middle of the pit, an enormous tree overshadowed everything. As Prompto had read in a newspaper while on the train, that tree overrunning the mine puzzled scientist, since it had sprouted apparently from thin air, and had grown at an unnatural speed in a few years. Just their luck, the Hunters had reported that the tomb was at its base, between the roots.

The walk downwards was agonizingly slow due to Ignis’ blindness and the now slippery soil, thanks to a gentle drizzle. Noctis kept clenching his teeth; he could take the monsters on his own, but at that speed night would see them still there, at the mercy of gods knew what kind of daemons bred there.

“Is it too much to ask the royal procession stick together?” Gladio asked when Noctis had gone too far away from Ignis and Prompto.

“Too much to ask you to shut it?”

That was the general tone of every interaction between the King and his Shield.

As Noctis had feared, night caught up with them, and they had to make camp. Gladio pitched the tent with a bit more energy than normal, but for the rest, he refused to sit down with everyone. The sight of Noctis staring silently into the bonfire got to his nerves and, Prompto, who did his best trying to help Ignis get his bearings, was at a loss for what to do. Cooking was out of the question, and they had to do with canned food they had stocked up at the shops above.

The next morning they kept walking, reaching at long last the bottom of the tree. The roots arched enough to let a truck pass under them, but the path was blocked by a fallen railway car. They investigated the control panel, finding out that they needed to activate the emergency generators and get the key from a shed, if they wanted the car to budge. It took them two mornings to do so: one to get to one generator, the other to get to the other and retrieve the key, since they were on different sides of the quarry, and pray that they still worked.

They worked, and the control panel gave a satisfying hum when they approached it the third morning. Noctis flipped the switch and the cart moved with great noise and black smoke coming from the main engine, but now there was enough room for them to walk to the other side.

However, before Noctis could cross the path himself, Gladio grabbed him by the shoulder.

“Hold up. You sure you’re ready for this? You got what it takes?”

“To do what,” he spat.

“To face your ancestors and convince them to lend you their strength. Got a long road ahead,” Gladio crossed his massive arms, all bitterness gone from his voice. “Can you see this through? To the end?”

“Can and will,” Noctis declared. “Whether I like it or not, I’ve got a duty to fulfill… as king.”

“You’re damn right you do,” Gladio chuckled. “Then that means you’d better start taking this seriously.”

Noctis clenched his teeth when the other walked past him. Keep going. That was it.

Descending deeper into the quarry wasn’t difficult for them, but Prompto and Gladio had to help Ignis several times. At one point, the gunslinger wrung his nose in disgust.

“Man, something stinks around here. Don’t slip and fall in whatever that is.”

It was true. Maybe it was the stagnant water or some dead animal, but the putrid stench burned into their nostrils and made their eyes water.

They reached the bottom, which was a knee-deep pond or greenish water. A light mist covering the whole place gate it a phantasmagorical quality. So that was what Cor meant about holding their noses.

They searched for the tombs’ entrance. It wasn’t too difficult to find, but when they did, they discovered it was covered in giant egg sacks.

“What _is_ this?” Prompto’s question didn’t want an answer.

“I hate eggs,” Gladio grumbled.

“Do we really wanna know what’s back there?”

Prompto was interrupted by a deep, gurgling roar and an explosion of water at their backs. Giant tentacles emerged from the pond, followed by a giant mouth.

“That looks like a mouth,” Prompto said. “Is that its face!?”

“What?” Ignis asked. “What is it?”

“Something real bad!” Noctis yelled, dodging a thrashing tentacle.

A single malboro was always bad news, but one who saw its nest endangered was trice as threatening and vicious. The fight was harder than anyone expected, with the monster constantly exhaling its foul breath. Its many tentacles made any approaching extremely difficult. There was a moment, though, when Ignis heard the monster inhaling.

“Noct, I have an idea. If I may…”

He took a magic grenade from his jacket and threw it with all his might towards the source of the rotten stench. The malboro swallowed the device, and it exploded with a burst of flames, fueled further by the stinking fumes.

“Ah, as I suspected,” he said when he heard the guttural howl of the monster.

It was enough to weaken it, and to give them the upper hand at last.

“Nice one, Iggy,” Gladio cheered.

As Noctis delivered the finishing blow, the malboro growled as it liquefied in a disgusting dark-green goo.

“Is it dead?” Gladio asked.

“It is… and it’s all thanks to Iggy!” Prompto shouted.

“Iggy, you saved us.”

“Seriously. We’d be plant food if it weren’t for you.”

“Happy to help,” the retainer simply said.

“What,” Gladio shot a piercing glance to Noctis. “No royal commendation from His Majesty?”

“None for you, at least,” Noctis shot back, walking towards the tomb’s entrance and shooting a fire spell towards the eggs.

Inside there was the same room with the same dormant figure, only this one had a black katana, long as tall was a man. The king acquired its powers and they all walked away from there, happy to be on their way back to civilization once more.

“A moment?” said Ignis as they crossed the tomb’s threshold. He hadn’t moved an inch from the door.

“Is everything okay?” asked Gladio.

“It bloody well isn’t!” the retainer exploded. “And I won’t suffer this pointless bickering in silence any longer.”

They all hung their heads in shame. Even Gladio looked uncomfortable.

“Let’s be frank. My vision hasn’t improved, and probably won’t. Yet in spite of this… I would remain with you all. Til the very end.”

“Sorry but I object,” said Gladio. “War is a matter of life and death.”

“But,” Prompto protested. “We’ll be there!”

“It’s not about us looking out for him!”

“Uh-huh. Well, then he should be free to choose.”

“There’s more to it than just what he wants!”

“I know full well!” Ignis yelled.

They all looked at him. Somehow, through the years they all had come to believe that it would be impossible for him to raise his voice in anger.

“I won’t ask you to slow down. If I can’t keep up, I will bow out.”

“What says _His Majesty_?” Gladio asked.

“Noct, you are king. One cannot lead by standing still. A king pushes onwards always, accepting the consequences and never looking back.” Ignis reminded Noctis. Then he turned to where the Shield’s voice came. “Gladio, Noct will take his rightful place, but only once he’s ready.”

The bigger man huffed in frustration.

“Have it your way. We’re still taking a big risk. We better _all_ be ready,” he stressed out that word looking at Noctis, before walking back to the station on his own.

They made their way back a bit quicker this time, and at long last they reached the lift. Despite his outburst, Gladio was waiting for them there. They made the trip back to the upper level in silence, until Noctis broke it timidly.

“You guys mind if we stop in Tenebrae?”

“Might as well hop off,” Prompto said merrily.

“If it helps him move on,” Gladio echoed, all ill intent dropped for good.

After stocking up on some first need items, they prepared to board the train. Before doing so, they still had some words for Ignis.

“We’re here for you,” Noctis assured him.

“Yeah,” the gunslinger echoed. “Let us help you.”

The bell announced the train about to leave, and they hurried to board it.

“And we’re off!” Prompto said happily.

“Are we clear?” Gladio asked.

“Crystal,” the retainer assured him.

“Hey,” said Noctis while grabbing his arm. “Watch your step.”

“You’re not _pushing onward_?” Gladio threw him a friendly jab, like the old times.

“Not at his expense,” said the king in all seriousness.

“Fair enough.”

It was good to know they could stick to the plan and that the rifts where somehow mended. They finally felt at ease as they boarded the train and took seats together again, like the friends they were.

They didn’t notice, however, a tall man in a long, black coat boarding the train too. He seemed very satisfied with himself, as he softly hummed the chocobo song.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hated this chapter when I played the game. I hated this chapter when writing this part. Good ridance, I say.


	33. In the Dark

**BOOK 2: THE TALE OF THE CHOSEN KING  
**

**CHAPTER 21 – IN THE DARK**

“Feels good to ride the rails,” said Ignis, lightly patting the table they were sitting at. They were waiting for their companions at the dining car.

“Sure does.”

“Eager to drive once we’re in Gralea?”

“If they’ll let me.”

“We’re fortunate to have the Regalia at all. We owe the first secretary our thanks.”

“She’d get more thanks if she gave us a discount.”

“Those transceivers are top-notch,” his retainer pointer out. “I recall when the Hydraean raged… In the midst of the empire’s retreat, one conspicuous craft remained behind: the chancellor’s. The last thing I remember seeing was his ship, heading for the altar. I… fell unconscious… and was powerless to stop him.”

“I’m just glad you’re alive,” Noctis sighed.

“Is someone else there?” Ignis turned slightly to his side. He seemed too eager to change the subject, but Noctis guessed that losing his sight wasn’t something he would want to discuss.

“Gladio… he just came back. Where did he go anyway?”

“On a brief reconnaissance. Something caught my ear.”

“Hey captain, mission complete,” the Shield announced, coming to sit with them at their table.

“Splendid.”

“So what _caught your ear_?”

“Rumors of longer nights.”

“They’ve been growing longer, day by day,” Gladio exposed.

“There was talk of it back in Lucis, but recent days have shown an unseasonably sharp change. Should this trend continue, before long…”

“There won’t be daylight,” Noctis finished the sentence for him.

“Well, it’s not out of the question. The empire’s already slain half of the Six,” Gladio mused. “No wonder the whole world’s in disarray.”

“I… guess.”

“And longer nights mean more daemons,” Ignis pointed out.

“Seen that with our own eyes.”

“I happened to overhear a fellow passenger discussing this very same phenomenon,” Ignis admitted.

“So he sent yours truly to seek ‘em out.”

“Nice police work,” the king complimented them.

“Well, don’t wanna keep ‘em waiting,” Gladio said as a signal to Ignis.

“No, we don’t,” the retainer stood up, following the Shield. “Back in a moment.”

“Sure.”

The landscape had changed slowly, and now Noctis was gazing at green pastures and snowy mountains beyond. Then suddenly the pasture turned ashen grey and the mountains were almost obscured by electricity towers, wire fences and what looked like a power plant. Beyond the power plant there were countless buildings, but even at that distance one could see they were half dilapidated. However, what really caught his attention was the gigantic storm over and beyond the mountains. It looked like a wall of solidified clouds, reaching to each side of the mountain range.

He heard someone running and then skidding to stop behind him.

“Whoa! There you are, buddy! Did you see this? It’s unreal!” Prompto exclaimed.

“Yeah. Doesn’t make any sense.”

Noctis felt something weird at that moment. It was as if something tugged at his insides, like when he was about to initiate a warping. He looked around and sprung up from his seat. Prompto was nowhere to be seen.

The train seemed to be slowing down, but they still hadn’t reached the station. The other passengers didn’t move, didn’t budge from where they were. Conversations had been cut, and the bartender seemed frozen as he gazed at something beyond the windows. In fact, several passengers were already raising their arms to protect themselves. Something was coming from the left side of the train, but he couldn’t see what it was.

“What’s going on?”

“It’s a real mystery,” said a voice behind him.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. He had come to know and hate that voice.

He spun on his heels. There he was, smiling as if nothing was happening.

“I’m not liking that snow cloud,” Ardyn said casually, not budging when Noctis stomped his way towards him. “Kind of gives me the chills. Like, who comes up with this stuff?”

Noctis threw a punch at him, but the chancellor dodged his fist.

“Whoa, what’s going on!?”

“What are you doing here?” Noctis barked.

“Easy there, buddy.” Ardyn let go a sigh of relief at seeing that his face was still intact. “Didn’t see that coming. You all right?”

This time he would hit that smarmy imperial, Noctis thought, forget the passengers being scared of weapons. He summoned his sword and swung at the chancellor.

“Shut up!”

“Be careful there!” Ardyn screamed, then his eyes widened in fear. “Wait… is this for real?”

He turned tail and ran away. That cowardly scoundrel!

Noctis reached the sleeping car just in time to see Ardyn skidding to a stop and hiding in one of the cubicles. The king tore open the compartment’s door.

“Show yourself!”

It was empty.

“Uh… Noct?”

He threw a punch to the voice behind him but his fist swung through thin air.

“That son of a bitch…” he growled.

Noctis resumed his pursuit. Ardyn was at the end of the next car, looking as scared as before.

“C’mon, Noct. You’re scaring me!” The chancellor kept talking as he ran away. “Seriously man, cut it out! It’s not safe. Plus, you’re causing a scene.”

“You think this is funny!?” Noctis yelled, swinging at him with his blade.

“Dude, are you seriously trying to kill me!?”

“Why wouldn’t I!?”

He had finally backed the chancellor into a corner. They were in the first car and the access to the engine was closed.

“What’re you after, following me around this whole time? It’s all YOUR fault…” Wrath choked the words on his throat. Furious, Noctis slammed Ardyn against the wall, pressing his forearm against the other’s throat.

“What are you talking about? Do you really mean that, Noct?” The chancellor pleaded. Why that saddened expression? What was he trying to do? Did he think that Noctis would take pity on him?

“Of course I do!” The king yelled. “You can’t talk your way out of this!”

“You won’t even let me!” Ardyn protested. “Noct, please. Can’t we talk for a sec?”

“Never.”

At that moment the train lurched as if it had started moving again. Noctis lost his balance and fell on his back, hitting his head and blacking out.

**xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx**

Someone shook him.

“Noct! Are you okay?”

It was Prompto. Noctis sat up with a jump.

“No,” he gasped. “Where’s Ardyn?”

“Wait… he’s here?” his friend asked in astonishment. “If he is, that would explain all this weird stuff happening. I bet he’s behind the train stopping. Ignis and Gladio went up to inspect the engine room. I say the two of us go check out the rear.”

As Prompto said, the train had stopped and all passengers tried to see through the windows what was happening. Some started to panic already, fearing an ambush from imperial soldiers.

The two of them hurried to the back car. An explosion shook the train, cracking the glass on the windows.

“Did they bomb us?” Prompto yelled, covering his head as he ran. “Noct, we have to protect the people!”

Reaching the sleeping car, they were knocked aside by a group of passengers fleeing in panic. A MT axeman had crashed through the window and was taking aim towards whoever was near. Noctis defeated it with ease, but if the soldier cornered a civilian, they wouldn’t stand a chance.

“So much for a safe ride,” Prompto quipped. “More of’em might be on board. Let’s check the rear!”

“We need to get the train moving again.”

“I’m sure Ignis and Gladio will come up with something.”

“Hope so. Let’s go.”

They kept running while they heard the enemy shooting at the train. This time crystal shards flew everywhere with the shockwave, and they could heard gunshots already hitting the cars. When they were reaching the last one, an explosion blew up part of the wall, sending Noctis to the floor. They realized it hadn’t been a missile.

“Crap,” Prompto swore. “The MTs can self-destruct.”

They were trying to blow up the entire train. Surely after the first attack had knocked Noctis out, Ardyn had gotten off and sent the army to get them, without caring about the civilians.

Only Prompto and Noctis could fight that time, with the other two busy trying to get the engine working again. It wasn’t especially complicated, but the self-destructing soldiers were a first for them. Prompto fought valiantly this time instead of cowering at one side of the battlefield. Maybe having a whole train of innocent people to protect had spurred him on.

When they thought they had the upper hand, tanks showed up. While Prompto kept the bombing MTs at bay, Noctis had to deal with the bigger fishes. Thankfully, when Noctis was dealing with the last tank, the train started moving again.

“C’mon,” Prompto yelled from the freight wagon. “We’re leaving.”

He warped to the roof of the rear car, only to discover that they had sent assault crafts full of MTs to board the train. Noctis warped towards them, destroying as many as he could, but he was tiring out. When he dealt with the last one, he returned to the train’s roof, to see Ardyn holding Prompto at gunpoint.

Noctis reacted on instinct. Swinging his sword, he knocked the gun from Ardyn’s grasp. A second swing and he unbalanced the man out of the roof and into the rails.

It was Ardyn falling off the car’s roof one second and, in the next, Prompto flailed his arms desperately as he fell with a shrill scream.

Noctis’ blood ran cold. What was happening?

“How long were you in the dark?” Ardyn asked behind him.

Before the king could turn around, the chancellor hit him in the base of his neck, knocking him out.


	34. End of Days

**BOOK 2: THE TALE OF THE CHOSEN KING  
**

**CHAPTER 22 – END OF DAYS**

When he regained consciousness, the first thing Noctis noticed was his face pressed against the hot, dusty car’s roof, and that the train moved at a very high speed.

“Damnit,” he gasped, getting to his feet.

The landscape had changed again. If they had been traveling through plains with the sea at their right and the mountain ranges far to the left, with lush vegetation at each side, now a steep rocky slope rose to their left, and the view opened to their right, showing a grey-brown plain with the coast line far beyond. Vegetation had disappeared and the rails had been built over high bridges to overcome the difficult terrain. No villages existed on these lands, though one could see the occasional halt scattered along the line. Noctis saw with desperation how the buildings and the power plants weren’t there anymore, and wondered how long he had been unconscious.

He called Ignis, who answered almost immediately.

_“What’s wrong?”_

“Ignis, you’ve gotta stop this thing! Prompto fell off the train. I pushed him… I mean,” he nearly chocked. “Ardyn made me. I don’t know where he is, but we can’t leave him!”

_“Stay calm, Noct. I’m as concerned for Prompto as you are, but stopping the train would endanger everyone on board. We’d be sitting ducks for the daemons.”_

Ignis had a point. Even as he stood on the train roof, Noctis could see the sun hiding behind the horizon. They might have maybe half an hour of light left.

“What do we do!?”

_“First, we drop the passengers off at Tenebrae. We’ll be arriving shortly.”_

“What about Prompto!?”

_“Given the chancellor’s involvement, it’s probable he’s no longer where we left him. In any case, he may try to contact us. Let us wait and hope for now. Can you make your way here? Gladio is with me.”_

“Are the two of you okay at least?” Noctis lowered his voice, but he couldn’t stop it from quivering.

The train turned left to enter a tunnel deep into the mountains. According to what Ignis had told him, beyond that tunnel was Tenebrae.

_“Yes.”_

“Okay, on my way.”

They were already inside the tunnel, and Noctis saw something moving in the distance. The shapes were unmistakable.

“I’ll be there as soon as I take care of these stowaways!”

Small daemons climbed up from the rails and fell from the tunnel’s ceiling. Not only small, imp-like ones, but giant demon-looking gargoyles, bigger than a man and with claws which could cut iron as if it was butter.

When he thought things couldn’t get worse and that he would be finally overrun by the imps, two half-spider, half-women daemons jumped on the engine and started clawing at it. Even with the noise of the train and the fighting, he could hear the screams of the passengers below.

The train finally got out of the tunnel. There was still daylight, yet the daemons seemed immune to the sunlight. The green forests of Tenebrae and its floating islands greeted them with their waterfalls and lakes. Noctis prayed then, and from the lake a giant serpent arose. With it more creatures like her, made of water, which threw themselves against the daemons.

Leviathan roared as water columns rose as she launched an attack against the train. She dragged all the daemons with her, in a whirlpool of screams and roars, and the train was free of the monsters.

Exhausted, though relieved, Noctis looked around. He saw Fenestala Manor, the ancestral home of the Lords of Tenebrae, in the distance. It was on fire.

**xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx**

Dusk had caught up with them as they reached the lights at the station, and night was quickly upon them. Noctis saw the thick smoke columns rising from the Manor and the buildings around it.

The station was crowded with passengers from their train and those fleeing the villages near the Manor. Some people had lost everything that day, and sat patiently with what little they could salvage, waiting for a train that would take them somewhere safe. Others had fallen prey to desperation, and stared silently into the void.

Noctis observed that not many seemed seriously injured, and he stopped dead on his tracks at some point when he saw what he thought was an MT, calmly explaining a civilian that al doctors were with their hands full down at the field hospital.

He looked around, and saw that there were no MTs at all. All soldiers were human. There was even a small group of them, off the clock and ways away from the crowd, who had removed their helmets and sat together, chatting and eating the gruel from the cafeteria.

At least that was one thing they didn’t have to worry about.

Noctis sighed, dropping heavily on the stairs. He had hoped to sneak quietly into imperial territory; he never wanted to have so many people involved. Tiredly, he buried his face on his hands for a moment, wishing he could lie down and rest like the other passengers. But he had much to do still, and Prompto’s fate weighted on his conscience.

He heard footsteps behind him. Clicking of high heels over concrete.

“Well, look who’s here.”

“Aranea,” Noctis said without turning, mocking a tone of delighted surprise. “Guess we’ve got you to thank for this mess?”

“More to it than meets the eye.”

Noctis turned, shooting a venomous glance towards that woman. She stood some paces away, looking at them with her usual air of confidence. It was infuriating.

“You wanna know who to thank? Come with me.”

Reluctantly, Noctis got up. “Can’t wait to hear this,” he smiled wryly.

Aranea offered him her trademark cocky smile but, when she saw Ignis walking with a cane, that smile vanished.

“Uh? What did you do to your eyes?” she asked him.

“Oh, uh… Just a flesh wound.”

“Can you see?”

“I’m… afraid not.”

“Wow. That sucks.” The Commodore simply said, making a face. “It’s a cruel world.”

They followed her down some stone steps into a bridge which connected the station to one of the islands. Noctis noticed that, though she spoke to him, her green eyes shoot glances towards Ignis, especially when they had to climb down some stairs or were obstacles in the way.

“Uh, wasn’t there one more of you guys?”

“Yeah… there was,” Noctis said through gritted teeth.

“We… lost track of him,” Gladio sighed.

“Is he dead?” her tone grew serious.

“I…” That was a though Noctis didn’t want to entertain. “I don’t know.”

“Then quit moping, keep hoping. And in the meantime, handle what’s at hand.”

They crossed the bridge. Two assault crafts had landed beyond, and the soldiers were supervising weapons and food supplies. The existence of those islands was what had charmed Noctis so much about Tenebrae when he was a kid. Aside from the meadows and forests, there were floating islands where people could live and walk on. What was more important, they stayed in the same place and allowed the construction of roads and bridges between them.

“So,” said Gladio. “If it’s not you we thank…”

“Thank the daemons, pawns of the imperial army.”

“The army that you fight for,” he jabbed at her.

“ _Fought_ for.” That was the only time Noctis could distinguish a hint of annoyance in her voice. “My men and I are in the search and rescue business now.”

“You mention being part of the relief effort,” said Ignis. “We have a favor to ask.”

“Ask away.”

“In light of what you’ve told us, we can’t allow the other passengers to continue on.”

“Sure, leave ‘em to me… but, who’s gonna drive the train?”

“Now that you mention it, yeah,” the Shield mused. “You know anyone?”

“I do. In fact, I know two.”

As they approached two of the officers, Noctis recognized them. They assisted Aranea at the ruins where they recovered the mythril.

“Your new engineers. Biggs and Wedge. No need to worry… they can take a lickin’.”

“Only if we ‘ave to,” said the man called Biggs, who wore a white uniform. “What’s all this about?”

“Driving a train. To Gralea.”

“That all?”

“Well, who would you have me ask?”

“You got us there.”

“We’ll do it,” said Wedge, who was dressed in the dark colors of lesser ranks.

“Hey,” Gladio saluted them. “Really appreciate you going out of your way.”

“Yeah. No sweat.”

While Gladio and Ignis talked to Aranea and his men, Noctis followed the next bridge into another island.

Biggs had directed him there, saying that there was an old lady, a retainer from House Fleuret, who wanted to talk to him.

The old woman stood at the other side of the island, looking at the fires devouring Fenestala Manor. Yet, when Noctis approached, she smiled warmly at him.

“My word… Is that you, Prince Noctis?”

“Uh, yeah… have we…?”

“Oh, blessed be the Stars. Just look at what a fine young man you’ve grown into.” The old woman gushed. “I am Maria, a retainer in service to House Fleuret. I doubt you’ll remember me after these long years.”

“I… uh…” Noctis scratched the back of his head in embarrassment. “Can’t say I do.”

“Don’t worry. Who I am is of little import… in light of that I wish to discuss. Lady Lunafreya risked everything to spirit the Ring of the Lucii away from the Citadel. Did she deliver it to you?”

He nodded.

“Stars above! My fears have been assuaged. Lord Ravus, too, will be overjoyed to hear this news.”

“ _Ravus, too_?” he echoed, incredulous.

Noctis then knew about Ravus’ change of heart, and how he helped Luna so that she could deliver the Ring to him. He also learned of the prize she had to pay for the covenants, and how her health was already failing her when she arrived at Altissia. Ravus had wanted nothing but her well-being, and that was the reason why he sought to kill the Astrals before her sister forged the covenants, and why he had tried to wield the Ring’s powers back in Insomnia. All out of love for his younger sister.

That put Ravus’ character under a very different light, and had Noctis rethinking everything that had happened until that moment, including what little Ignis had told them of what transpired in Altissia while Leviathan raged.

“I understand you will go hence to the imperial capital,” the retainer asked.

“Yeah.”

“Lord Ravus had King Regis’ glaive in his safekeeping, and it was his wish to return it to you, my Prince. Though I imagine it will not be easy for you to find each other.”

“I’ll get it from him somehow.”

“I pray it shall be so,” said the woman, bowing as deeply as her bad back allowed.

That was more than he wanted to see and to know. He thanked the old woman, wishing her safe travels, and returned to the train. On his way back, Aranea stopped him.

“About the Crystal… Remember how I said it was locked away?”

“Uh… yeah?”

“They really don’t allow anyone near the thing. The emperor himself never got close to it. The lab rats had a theory the Crystal posed some kind of… threat to the daemons. The way they see it, that’s the reason the chancellor had the emperor go after it in the first place. Dunno, but that theory holds water in my book.

“Certainly explains why the kings have always guarded the Crystal, and how they kept the daemons at bay. Long story short, we’re stuck in this rut until you go and take back what’s yours.”

He already knew the Crystal was important and that it had been bestowed by the gods but, he didn’t know if it had a direct effect on daemons. Did his father know?

Gladio and Ignis had returned to the train already, accompanied by Biggs and Wedge, and were probably waiting for him. Noctis asked the soldiers in charge of the supplies if they could sell him something. He stocked up what he could and returned to the station.

A little girl stopped him on his way to the train. She might have been eight or nine.

“Prince Noctis!” she greeted him.

“Yeah?”

“Prince Noctis, were… were you excited to marry Lady Lunafreya?”

Childish curiosity, what could you do?

“Because she was really excited to marry you!” She beamed. “She looked so happy the day her dress arrived! She really loved you, Prince Noctis.”

Probably some servant's child. Her innocent enthusiasm felt like a jab of ice through the chest, but he couldn’t bring himself to do anything that wasn’t smiling for her.

“I… thank you,” he managed to say, squatting to meet her eye to eye.

The girl smiled, but then her expression dropped slightly.

“Lady Lunafreya worried she was burdening you with the wedding,” the girl’s voice was tinted with sadness. “That’s not true, is it?”

“No, not at all,” the words came out instantly.

He thanked the little girl and went on his way. As he crossed the station to where Biggs and Wedge stood, he had the feeling he had seen the last sundown in a long time. People at the station shared that fear, and they huddled together as scared little animals. The only ones seemingly in high spirits were Aranea’s men.

“Ready to depart,” said Biggs. “Just swapped out the damaged cars for some new ones.”

That was all he needed to know. He gave the order, and they prepared to depart.

“Don’t worry about the civilians. They’re in my good hands,” Aranea grinned, but then her expression became serious and Noctis noticed her green eyes fixed on Ignis. “Can’t say the same for you. Watch yourselves in the capital.”

“We will,” the retainer answered, as if feeling her gaze on him.

They heard the bell calling them to board. Noctis remained at the station just enough time to ask Aranea if she would be up for a search and rescue mission.

“Get your ass on board!” Gladio hollered from inside the train.

“Yes, sir,” he murmured, climbing into the car.

Outside, small snowflakes had begun to fall.

**xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx**

The three friends occupied the dining car while they traveled. Sharing a table was more comfortable than sitting on a normal car, and there was food and drinks at hand. It was pitch black outside, and they could only heard the train moving at a high speed over the sleety rails.

“Oi!” Bigg’s voice sounded through the speakers. “Uh… attention all passengers! We’re on our way to our final destination in the imperial capital. Enjoy the ride. I’ll be in touch if anything comes up.”

Lack of humor wasn’t something one could hold against that man, that was for sure.

“Look at all that snow,” said Gladio. “No wonder it’s so cold in here.”

“We must be approaching the Glacian’s cadaver,” Ignis pointed out.

“Won’t be a blessing if all we got’s a body.”

“Let us hope we pass through the gorge without incident.”

“It’s what’s after the gorge I’m worried about,” the Shield grumbled.

Aranea had already told them, but even the newspapers covered the news. Noctis read aloud an article for Ignis which said the following:

**_The fall of the Empire?_ **

_After his forces suffered crippling casualties against the Hydraean in Altissia, High Commander Ravus Nox Fleuret was sentenced to capital punishment. However, the imperial army has yet to appoint a successor to the late Lord Fleuret. Moreover, waves of magitek troopers gone haywire have fled Haulhex Armory and begun assaulting the citizenry. Could this be karmic retribution of those who turned their back to the gods?_

Those were more than worrying news, and a far worse scenario than what Aranea had described to them.

As the train advanced, frost started covering the windows and they felt small lurches when the engine had to break through snow mounds on the rails. Several times they had all to get off the train and shovel the snow away from the tracks.

Another stop. This time Biggs’ voice sounded less cheerful.

“Attention, eh! You might have noticed we’ve stopped. As for the cause… Outside, ya think?”

“We’ll take a look,” Noctis sighed, going for the door.

“Hope it’s just a quick snow-shoveling job,” Gladio wished.

The three of them got off into the freezing cold. Soon their hands lost sensitivity and they had to keep moving to preserve the warmth.

“The Glacian did this,” Ignis pointed out.

Even after death, Shiva’s magic still had an effect on her surroundings. A everlasting deep-freeze had settled on Ghorovas Rift, once known as Shiva’s sleeping place, now her tomb, and that of those unfortunate who ended up stranded in that valley.

Gladio and Noctis could see the outline of Shiva’s corpse from the railway. In fact, they could also distinguish her face through the snowstorm.

“It’s a shame,” Gladio lamented. “She’s lying dead.”

They heard a screech, followed by many howls, as a floating figure appeared in the distance. A magic wielding daemon with its cohort of imps appeared, bathing everything in the sickening green light of the will ‘o wisps floating around it. Thanks to Ignis’ magic, they could save a bit of strength for the next, unexpected round. A giant monster people had named “Death Claw” climbed up to the railway. It was a bulking daemon with claws as big as its own body, and famed for killing entire squads of soldiers and seasoned hunters. Fire hurt him, but he counter attacked with its own magic.

Noctis’ warp ability was useful to avoid being killed instantly, but Ignis had to remain at a good distance and assist from time to time infusing the king’s weapons with fire magic.

The battle was a harrowing one, and more than once Noctis had to assist Gladio with a healing potion.

They sighed in relief when the daemon finally fell. It had been the first time in their travel that they felt they had truly courted Death.

The cold wind froze the sweat drops on Noctis’ brow, and it hurt to breath. Gladio had already taken Ignis inside the train and was calling for the king.

“You’d better get in here,” Gladio yelled over the howling wind. “Something’s not right.”

Tiredness made Noctis stagger to the door but, when he looked up, he saw Ardyn casually walking past by.

“No way,” the king gasped.

He hopped inside and ran after the chancellor.

“You! Hold it!” Noctis screamed through chattering teeth. “That son of a bitch.”

In the first car a thick mist poured from the far door and gathered inside. The space in between cars didn’t look better but, when he opened the next door, a strong gust of wind and snow hit him with full force. Ignis had discussed with him the possibility of the empire bestowing magitek powers to the chancellor but, could he conjure a full snowstorm?

Noctis labored against the gale, feeling his forearms going numb. It took all his strength not to lose his footing in the growingly slippery floor. A lone figure waited for him at the far end, impervious to the storm, his black coat billowing around him like dark wings.

“Stop!” Noctis hollered above the snowstorm. “Stop, damnit! Where is he? Where’s Prompto?”

“Oh, there you are!” Ardyn saluted cheerfully, leaning casually against the back of a seat. Then his tone turned mockingly mournful. “I’m worried about your friends. They’ve fallen and they can’t get up. Why not lend them a hand?”

Struggling to open his eyes, Noctis recognized his two friends on the ground, behind the chancellor. He wanted to rush for them, but the cold was paralyzing him, and he could only watch and shiver in desperation.

“A coldness that can only be hers,” Ardyn smirked.

Noctis fell on his knees, his sight already blurring. He gazed at Gladio and Ignis, trying to think what could he do, but his eyes distinguished a dark figure beyond the far door. He saw the unmistakable dark hair of Gentiana and her dark robes. Neither the wind nor the cold seemed to affect her, and she slowly strode towards them.

Ardyn didn’t expect the Messenger to appear after Lunafreya was dead. Even so, he greeted her with an unctuous smile as she passed by his side.

“Ahhh, the face you wore the day you-”

Gentiana put her finger to her lips and then to Ardyn’s. The man froze solid at that instant.

She stood before Noctis, who looked up at her without understanding.

“Ley it now be done,” she said in her soft, whispering voice. “As promised to the Oracle.”

Her hands made a sign, and a blue light engulfed her. When it dissipated another figure stood before him, a smaller copy of the giant goddess outside, with skin as blue and pale as a winter morning’s sky, and hair as white as snow. The snowstorm was gone, but not the cold.

“Gentiana… it’s you. You’re the Glacian.”

“Tales of the past and hope for the future are manifest in the King of Kings. The Frostbearer’s blessing shall be his,” she said.

Shiva moved her hand to touch his brow, and bestowed upon him the whole story of the Six Astrals, the ascension of Solheim, the war against Ifrit and how they all fell into a deep slumber. Then she showed him how a man drew the Pyreburner away from the light.

“His peril is sensed by the Frostbearer,” she recounted. “She rushes to his aid, only to be felled by the foreign hordes. Those masses are now one with the darkness… darkness that, before long, will swallow the Six and the star they protect. This star’s fate no longer rests in the hands of the gods. It sits on the shoulders of the Chosen. Deliver this world from darkness… and grant my love release.”

“I promise I will.”

She smiled.

“The Oracle is no longer of this world, but her thought remain… and they must be known.”

Noctis nodded. If there was something he wished to know, it was that.

“When the boy begins his existence on this star,” Shiva recited. “The girl is met by the High Messenger. It is ordained that she will work with him to return the Light. The girl reaffirms that promise. The High Messenger is moved by the girl’s determination, her heart warmed by the girl’s benevolence. Her faith in humankind is restored once more.”

She touched his forehead a second time, and he was assaulted by a myriad of images. Slowly, they began to order themselves until they formed a scene from Luna’s memories.

He saw her standing among the sylleblossoms at dusk. Someone was approaching her but Luna didn’t turn around, for she knew who it was.

_“Sister, cease this madness. That boy will never be King.”_

_“Noctis is chosen,”_ she affirmed. _“It is ordained. You of all people should know.”_

_“I know that you are throwing your life away!”_

_“That may be!”_ she raised her voice, turning defiantly to face her brother. Then her voice softened as tears filled her eyes. _“But… it’s my choice. If only…”_

His brother disappeared from the memory, and she stood alone among the flowers, bathed in the warm light of dusk.

 _“If only I could… hear his voice once more…”_ Her voice broke as she wept. _“If we could laugh together as we did as children.”_ Tears rolled down her cheeks. _“If we could… live out our days together as we once dreamed…”_

 _“Wherefore does the lady weep?”_ she heard Gentiana’s soft voice near her.

Luna checked herself, straightening her back.

 _“Forgive me,”_ she said, hurriedly wiping away her tears. _“I vowed to only cry where prying eyes cannot see the tears in mine.”_

_“Yet others need not hide their grief. Is she so different from them?”_

_“No,”_ she shook her head. _“She is no different at all. She wants exactly what they do: to be with the one she loves. But want though she may, it is not to be.”_

 _“The lady’s thoughts nave been heard,”_ Gentiana assured, going to her and brushing a tear off her cheek. _“The love she bears the king shall never fade… and, in time, her feelings shall be known unto him. And if the words are not spoken from her lips, then the Messengers shall see that they are heard. The god’s favor and the lady’s love shall be with him evermore.”_

Gentiana took Luna’s hands between hers.

_“Thus it is promised between the Oracle and her familiar.”_

_“I am undeserving of your kindness,”_ Luna whispered in a hoarse voice and squeezing the Messenger’s hands. _“Thank you.”_

Gentiana smiled back at her charge, her golden eyes open, tears rolling down her cheeks, for the Oracle’s suffering mirrored hers.

In a flash of light, the memory ended, and Noctis saw himself kneeling before the Frostbearer.

“And so the promise is fulfilled,” Shiva declared. “As her words go with him, so shall my blessing.”

She made a gesture with her hands, and the Trident of the Oracle appeared between them. Noctis took it, muttering his thanks to the goddess.

“O, King of Kings, restore the Light unto this world,” Shiva pledged, as she bestowed her blessing.

The snow had gone, as did the goddess. Noctis felt his chest tightening. Luna knew, somehow, that they would never see each other again. She knew, and still carried on with her duty.

“Luna,” he whispered, feeling warm tears rolling down his cheeks. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for you. Not even when you needed me the most. There was so much you wanted to say. So much I wanted to say… And now I’ll never have the chance. I’m so sorry…”

A blue petal floated into his field of vision. He raised his eyes: white sandals, the hem of a white dress…

Luna stood before him, smiling as she had done in Altissia before the crowd. Or maybe she had been smiling at him. More blue petals, sylleblossom petals, fell over them.

He stretched his hand and she vanished, leaving him alone again. But his hand caught the last petal, and he held it close to his chest.

“You and I will be together again someday,” he sworn, wiping away the tears. “I promise.”

Getting up, his eyes fell on the ice statue Shiva had left behind. Without thinking, he summoned his sword and shattered it in a thousand shards. Thus was the unexpected and unceremonious end of the chancellor’s life.

Staggering, he reached his friends and shook them awake.

“Hey. Wake up,” he managed to say between chattering teeth.

His friends stirred and groaned.

“The hell happened?” Gladio grumbled, shaking his head.

“Yeah. I saw the Glacian. It’s okay, she’s gone now. You guys check on our drivers.”

“Got it,” Gladio turned to Ignis and helped him up. “You good?”

“Yes, I’m fine. Let’s go.”

It took his some minutes until he could get on his feet. When he did, Noctis wobbled towards the engine room. On the next car, however, he felt his hair standing on end. He turned slowly to see him there, leaning nonchalantly on back of a seat, smiling at him.

“I feel I’ve earned the right to call you Noct,” Ardyn said. “For a moment I felt death’s chill wind, such is the might of the gods. But then, I remembered I’m immortal. Such is my blessing and curse. Your attack hurt me, nevertheless… My feelings, at least. And after all the memories we’ve shared. Remember this?”

Noctis’ eyes widened when he saw the chancellor waving Prompto’s gun around.

“Ah, I should have asked if you remember _him_. Truly a blast from the past, nay?”

The king made to grab at the gun, but Ardyn was quicker.

“Ah, ah, ah!” he scolded him holding the weapon out of his reach. “You mustn’t take what’s not yours.”

“Where is he!?” the king roared.

“ _He_?” Ardyn echoed, smirking maliciously. “The little gunman’s a short shot away.”

“Where?”

“Where else but Gralea, the seat of the empire? I’m sure he’ll be delighted to see you. And you might even find your Crystal. With all these daemons about, you could certainly use it.”

He walked past Noctis, who clenched his fists in anger and who didn’t notice the faint click of the device in Ardyn’s hand.

“Off you go, then. I wouldn’t want to keep you from your friend.”

He went away, laughing softly. Noctis would have wanted to summon his sword once again, but he was too exhausted to do anything.

It didn’t matter. They could deal with that weasel later, but for now reaching Prompto and then the Crystal should be his prime concern.


	35. Episode Prompto

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Excuse the +10,000 words chapter. I could have divided it, but the flow was too important to disrupt it. Enjoy your humongous chapter filled with Prompto angst.

**BOOK 2: THE TALE OF THE CHOSEN KING  
**

**CHAPTER 23 – EPISODE PROMPTO**

He could barely see where he was going.

Even since he had ventured out from that refuge where he had woken up, he had no means to know his location, nor where the nearest settlement could be. Following the railroad tracks seemed like a good idea at first, until he remembered that they could go on and on for miles before reaching anything resembling a building. At least he had found warm clothes which fitted him and some rations, aside from a blade he could use for close combat, but they didn’t seem very useful in the middle of nowhere.

His face was already numb from the constant, icy wind, and plodding through the knee-high snow and against the strong wind was depleting his energy dangerously fast.

But even with the storm raging around him, the only thing playing before his eyes, as he arduously made his way forward, was the way Noctis had called him a traitor, how he had chased him along the train, accusing him of giving them away to the empire. The murderous intent in his eyes.

That was something he couldn’t forget, and what made him wonder, each time he fell, face first in the snow, why he stood up again and kept going.

He had lost sensitivity from the knees down, and now walking felt like moving with stilts. What little daylight the storm let shine was quickly going away. Soon it would be nighttime, and Prompto doubted the daemons minded the cold as he did.

The young man fell again. This time, mixed with the howling wind, there was the unmistakable hum of an assault craft. He laughed bitterly, trying to get up again.

“What a way to go,” he said to himself.

All his strength spent, he fell again and couldn’t get up. The sound of the MTs falling on the snow reached him as muffled thuds through his vanishing senses, and the last thing he saw was a forest of boots surrounding him.

**xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx**

The Citadel was ahead of him. A red carpet ran all the way from the ironwork gates to the stairs to the palace. He marched on, not knowing if he should be there at all.

His body felt small and heavy; looking down, his belly was round and soft again, his hands chubby and clumsy.

_“My whole life, all I ever wanted was friends…”_

He now stood at the foot of the stairs. A group of people walked down towards the plaza, laughing and chatting.

_“…but no one ever wanted me back.”_

Noctis, Ignis and Gladiolus walked past him, all adults, all dressed in their black Crownsguard attires. They always had that aura which set them apart from everyone else: A Crown Prince and two men born from families with a long history of service to the Crown. But him, what was he?

 _“So when I finally found people who_ did _want me, I did everything I could to make them stay.”_

He tried following them, but his chubby legs couldn’t walk faster. Besides, what was the point? He finally sat down in the stairs, alone.

_“And ever since then, I’ve lived my life in fear: That, one day, they’d find out who I really was, and they wouldn’t want me anymore.”_

Images of their travels flashed before his eyes. They were laughing, playing cards, taking photos while goofing around. Then that train to Gralea, where Noctis attacked him while Prompto had Ardyn cornered.

**xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx**

It felt warmer, though one of his cheeks felt cold. Opening his eyes, he saw he wasn’t in the snow anymore, but laying on a metallic floor, on a strange, circular room. All around him were computers and working stations, chairs, metal boxes, tall crystal cylinders…

His surroundings mattered little, however, when he noticed that his right wrist was bare. He instinctively covered the place with his other hand, and then tugged at the sleeve and the glove, trying to cover the offending flesh underneath.

What was that place?

Pieces of paper laid scattered over the working stations: data charts and reports on experiments Prompto had no idea what they meant, only that they had something to do with biology. There were also audio tapes where the masculine voice of a scientist narrated the results and developments of the experiments they carried out at that place.

In 722, the voice of that scientist narrated how he had been tasked with the production of magitek infantry. The empire wanted to substitute human soldiers with magitek-powered robots. They used sublimated daemons as fuel, but that resulted in a too unstable infantry unit at first. The scientist also talked, without giving a name, about another man who provided the exact calculations to make the sublimation stable. The scientist sounded hopeful and even happy to know that he was helping his country rise.

 _Sublimated daemons_. That was what Aranea told them about. Was he on an imperial research facility? The current year was 756, so that would mean they had been doing that for over thirty years, if the dates were correct.

He kept exploring. More scattered paperwork, more charts and more reports, all from decades back, recounting how a strange illness had appeared centuries back in the far reaches of the empire. After many years of investigation, they drew a correlation between the daemons and that illness, but Prompto couldn’t gather any more information from those papers.

The only door in the room was closed shut, though there was a touch panel attached to its side. Prompto brought his hand close to see if he could tamper with the buttons. Besides, if he wore gloves there was no way he could trigger any alarm. As the hand got closer, the scanner emitted a green light and a female computer voice started reciting:

 **“Scanning production code. Unit 05953234 confirmed,”** the door opened with a swishing sound. **“Warning: this unit has been compromised. Initiating retrieval of compromised unit.”**

“She still remembers you, after all these years.”

Prompto spun around, covering the barcode tattooed on his right wrist.

“You!” Prompto tried summoning his gun, but his hands remained empty.

He tried again and again as the chancellor approached him with a stalking gait. When the young man raised his eyes, he saw Ardyn playfully waving around the gun he had dropped at the train.

“We can’t have you spilling blood _here_ ,” the chancellor teased. “Although to most this compound is known only as the First Magitek Production Facility, birthplace of the myriad magitek troopers and daemons the empire holds dear, to _you_ , this place should have some sentimental value. After all, it is your home sweet home.”

“Shut up,” Prompto hissed.

“I’m not the one who almost killed you.”

“You’re wro-”

Ardyn pushed the gun against Prompto’s chest so he could take it.

“You really ought to take a rest,” he gloated. “Perhaps the estimable Chief Besithia will help heal that broken heart of yours.”

“Who the hell is that?” he growled.

“Oh, how quickly they forget,” Ardyn lamented in a theatrical tone. “But fear not: I’ve no doubt a reunion would refresh your memory.”

Prompto looked at the gun in bewilderment for a moment and, while he quickly took aim at the chancellor, he was already gone. He didn’t want to admit it, but Ardyn’s words had shaken him. Nevertheless, he forced himself to think about his friends.

“I’m gonna find ‘em… wherever they are,” he repeated to himself.

Before going out of that room, he kept exploring. There was a newspaper from 723, where a man named Verstael Besithia had been appointed as overseer of the compound Prompto had been trapped in. The face staring at him from the old clipping was that of a middle-aged, cruel man.

That was the face of that Besithia person, then. Good to know whom exactly he had to avoid.

The door he had opened led him to a short hallway which died at an intersection. Piles of books and papers were left here and there, some inside boxes, some on the floor. It reminded Prompto of the last day they spent on Insomnia, packing Noctis’ things to ship them to the palace. Where the scientists also packing to move?

Turning right at the intersection, he reached a small space with chairs and an Ebony vending machine. It was modified so the staff didn’t have to insert coins. Instead, any user could get a can of coffee with the press of a button. If only Ignis could see that.

Continuing left form the intersection, he came upon a long corridor. Prompto ducked behind a barrier when he saw a soldier patrolling the far end.

He checked his handgun. Even though he couldn’t summon it, the enchantment, which prevented him from running out of ammo, was still active.

“Ready or not!” he yelled, getting out from his cover and running as fast as he could while firing.

The MTs was dead when he reached it. It had been easier than he thought.

The next door opened to a different corridor. This one had a big glass window to the left. Peering thought it, Prompto could see a vast room, bigger than a concert hall. A central platform had been built in the middle, surrounding a core of some sort which slowly rotated and glowed with a red light. Many giant pipes connected that platform with the metal walls and, on top of said platform, many MTs stood with their heads down, still dormant, either waiting to be activated or infused with energy.

“Shit… Was he telling the truth about his place?” Prompto murmured.

He knew the MTs could hear him, and he wasn’t so sure about not being any humans there, but when he was nervous he became very talkative. It sometimes got in Gladio’s nerves, but it was something Prompto could not control. Now he had to talk aloud, even if it was to himself.

Prompto hurried past that corridor with the window and into the next one. There was another intersection and, at some distance, a soldier patrolled the area. This time, he stalked his way towards the MT, trying to slow his heartbeats as he crawled his way forward. He felt his knees trembling when he peered around the corner, where the MT stood. Pouncing, he locked his arms around the soldier’s neck, holding it in a bind. He pressed harder, until he heard a snap, and the MT’s body started twitching and buzzing, once the cables on its neck had been torn.

Cor had taught him that trick, back in the day. MTs resembled humans, so the same tactics could be applied many times. Any other day he would have been overjoyed that he could do it perfectly, just as Cor had tried to teach him, but that day he was too focused on surviving.

Thad soldier had an undamaged submachine gun, which Prompto took for himself. Its more potent firepower was worth the reloading and the additional weight.

Discarded on one of the benches ahead, Prompto found another recording. It was from the same scientist and the same year, 722. In that tape, the scientist explained how he sublimated daemonified humans to infuse the MTs with the miasma, and how the soldiers suffered from mental breakdowns afterwards. He hypothesized that there were still remnants of the human’s ego on the daemonic essence, and that sense of self was what caused the problems.

 _“Why not inject_ infants _with the plasmodia instead?”_ the scientist wondered. _“We’ve little time. If we are to combat the Lucian threat, we must explore new options. I, too, will set aside my personal misgivings and do what I must for the empire.”_

Prompto stood frozen after the recording finished playing, feeling as he had been left stranded at a house of horrors.

Trying his hardest to dismiss the cold sweat bathing him and his slightly trembling knees, he continued, turning right and then left, arriving at some stairs guarded by two soldiers. Strangely enough, being able to fight made him lessen his revulsion at what he kept discovering.

Taken by surprise, but still capable of defending themselves, the soldiers put up a harder fight than their previous companions did, but Prompto got the upper hand. Even though he never boasted about it, he was the best shooter in the group.

Continuing on, he encountered more soldiers and he had to use every trick he knew to fight against them. It was good that the corridors had so many crannies for him to take cover, and that no one had thought about programming that behavior on the MTs. He, too, was behaving strangely. Perhaps not having his friends around to rely on made him more reckless.

More corridors and more soldiers, and Prompto found himself running and firing without thinking. His mind had gone numb.

He reached a warehouse: The door opened to a catwalk which wounds it way above an open space where several MTs stood dormant. Right on his line of sight, Prompto saw that a patrolling MT carried a different weapon than those he had encountered earlier. Crawling behind the plied up crates and boxes, he snuck behind that soldier and disabled it, snatching a sniper rifle from its hands.

There were more MTs at the other side of the warehouse, blocking the path to the exit. Gunning them down at a distance was almost a blessing, until a hovering robot, a sentinel unit, discovered him and activated the alarm, making the dormant soldiers become active.

Even more soldiers arrived through the exit door, and Prompto had to make good use of all the weapons he carried. His lucky stroke was being cornered against a gun rack filled with submachine guns and ammo. As he shoot his weapon and disabled the MTs, he felt nothing. His mind had gone blank, and only when the stairs leading to his position were filed with the scattered carcasses of the soldiers, did he allow himself some respite.

Sitting by the near empty rack of weapons, something clicked on his brain: Now he understood why each time an MT fell, there was that dark mist coming out of it. If they were infused with daemonic stuff, it was logical that they released that miasma. And, what about the sound they made when they were killed? It was as if someone was screaming. He shook his head: the creepiness of that place was getting to him.

In the next corridor, the air was decidedly colder. He gasped when the next door revealed, finally, an exit.

To the left, the rocky mountain wall rose and disappeared in the mist overhead and, to the right, there was a deep fall into a white void. The path ahead of him wound a short way around the mountain until it reached another complex. Prompto’s spirits fell when he encountered the same kind of corridors inside that building, but he was also glad to be on a warm place.

There was a room ahead with benches, chairs, shelves and another Ebony vending machine where he could rest. He also found another audio tape among the scattered paperwork. Hesitant at not knowing what kind of horrors he might listen to, he finally played it. The recording was from 736. The scientist complained about the lab’s security and how a spy had made off with one of his _experiments_.

 _“Absconding with a single infant will do nothing to enlighten them of the grandeur of my research,”_ the scientist stated arrogantly. _“That said, I will see to it such an incident never arises again. I’ve posted magitek troopers around the facility and instructed them to keep a vigilant watch. It_ is _their home, after all.”_

So, they were already experimenting with kids. And what was that about _infected_ kids? Prompto would have felt revulsion, but there were other thoughts which troubled him.

736 was the year they said he had been born.

“Does that mean I…? No, it couldn’t be. There’s no way.”

There were some papers which caught his eye. One of them, dating from 746, instructed how to number the prototypes. There would be a distinction between troopers and infants, but all would be tattooed on their right wrists.

“We… We’ve all got the same barcodes,” he murmured, gazing at his wrist.

Another tape lain forgotten among the piles of papers. This time he feverishly took it and pugged in his player. It was from 723; the scientist still pondered about how he could find a high enough number of infants for his experiments.

_“Then it dawned on me: why not make them myself? If I could clone them from my own genes, I can eliminate the pesky process of breeding them. Mass production remains a pipe dream for now, but I’m confident I can create a massive infantry once the process picks up. If everything goes according to plan, the empire will boast a million-man army in no time at all.”_

The floor swayed before his eyes. Prompto sat down heavily, trying to keep his breathing under control.

“All this time,” he whispered. “Those things I’ve been fighting have been…”

The scientist’s tapes kept repeating in his head. He tried stopping his train of thought, but to no avail. It took him a long time until his hands stopped trembling, and he could stand again on his feet. Reminding himself that he had to continue, for he had no one else who would do it for him, he opened the next door.

Behind it stood an MT. Red sparks flew from its body, as if it was malfunctioning. The soldier swung the axe it wielded, trying to cleave at Prompto. It knocked him to the floor just as the young man had taken his handgun off, and fell of top of him. The struggle was brief, ending when Prompto pulled the trigger and blew the soldier’s head.

**“Target detected. Eliminate immediately.”**

The security system had been activated. Finally awake, his first instinct wasn’t that of cowering and seeking and exit. Instead of that, Prompto pursed his lips and tightened his grip on his handgun.

“I can’t take this anymore,” he murmured through clenched teeth as he made his way forward.

At the previous warehouse he got his hands on a bazooka and some flares, useless in close quarters, but in the next storeroom there was space enough for him to fire to his heart’s content.

That warehouse was filled with MTs and sentinel spheres. Many blew up with a satisfying explosion after he made good use of the bazooka.

 **“Commence elimination of compromised unit,”** the security system announced.

Hiding behind crates, dodging and scurrying away, that was how Prompto fought best, and it that place he felt in his element. He had found stocks of potions in other rooms, but decided to use them sparsely and avoid as much harm as possible.

His fighting style had always been very different from the other guys, Prompto thought as he disabled the MTs and hid from the sentinels. But that was maybe because all the fights were always in open space, with your opponent charging like a roaring bull at you. Give him enough room to plan an ambush and a good sniper rifle, and he could take a whole army down.

Prompto’s mind had gone strangely numb, and his hand was as steady as ever. Part of him had wanted to go back to the path around the cliff, but there was another side of him: Prompto was nothing if not tenacious, ridiculously so at times. That side had pushed him to do things that he would have never done in his right mind. It was like being on a trance: One second he refused to do something, the next he was jumping headlong into what he claimed terrified him.

The same thing was happening during those moments: he had to live, no matter what. He had a desperate need to survive, and he didn’t know why, nor he bothered finding out.

Once the room fell silent, he stepped his way over the metallic carcasses of the MTs towards the exit. Said door wasn’t like the others, but guilt like a camera’s shutter. Prompto looked at the touch panel at its side, and then at his arm. He approached his right wrist to the panel, and a green beam of light read it.

The door opened without setting any alarm off.

“…Lucky me,” he whispered with a mirthless chuckle.

The barcode worked, and the first door he had opened hadn’t been malfunctioning. He closed shut his eyes, keeping the tears at bay, and kept going.

A round tunnel opened ahead, which went down on an incline. He crossed the door at the end of the tunnel, and entered a half-lit room.

Rows of giant, crystal tubes lined up at each side. At the far end of the room, a flight of stairs climbed to a platform with computers and work stations. Beyond that, a giant glass separated that room the next, where there was a power core, a smaller version of the one Prompto had seen in the previous building.

Unlike the ones he had seen in the room he had woken up in, these crystal tubes were filled with some sort of liquid, and, floating inside, he could see human bodies.

Prompto forced his legs to move towards the tubes and, with a titanic effort, he raised his eyes to look at the vats.

The humans inside were all young, male, and the flesh in their bodies was partially blackened and rotten, no doubt an effect of the _plasmodia_ the scientist kept talking about on the recordings. Then Prompto looked one in the face, then another, and then he feverishly ran around the room, looking with increasing horror at each one of them.

Even devoid of hair, he could recognize the bodies’ facial features as his own. Some were like drops of water to him, some others looked slightly different, but the likeness was there.

“Who… _What_ am I?” he whispered, feeling panic rising up his chest, and as if the whole room began to spin around him.

There were some cleaning utensils propped in a corner, used after one of the vats had broken and spilled its contents. Prompto hurried to one of the buckets and emptied his stomach there.

Why Ardyn had taken him there? What was the purpose behind it all? If it was Noctis the one he was after, why not bringing him too? Prompto was a pleb, a nobody. Did he want to break him so he turned on Noctis?

Wiping his mouth, the young man sat down on the floor, pushing the bucket away from him. He brought his knees to his chest on an instinctive reflex and, covering his mouth with his gloved hands, he screamed until his lungs hurt and his throat was sore. Then he wept, slightly rocking back and forth.

All his life he had known he was different, that he had to cover his tattoo. He had pushed people away so they didn’t know the real him, until he met the Prince. He wanted to be friends with Noct, no matter what, and bent backwards, not only to make it happen, but also to keep it that way.

But he couldn’t imagine it would be like this. When his parents had told him the truth, on one of those rare occasions when they talked to him more than two sentences, Prompto had imagined that he came from a place where kids were brought up and marked as property of the empire, like in those orphanages one could see on television dramas. He wished he could have kept clinging to that version of the story, no matter how fake it was. But, remembering the exact wording from his parents, they actually never lied to him. They just said that he had been found in a place with many other babies and that he had been _rescued_ and brought to Insomnia, and only him because only one could be taken.

Many questions crowed his mind: Were his parents his rescuers? Why bother taking him in if they largely ignored him? Were they an actual couple at all? Did they keep their distance in fear that, he turned into a daemon someday and they had to put him down?

His tears dried because there were no more to shed. His head throbbed and his eyes stung. After the adrenaline rush from before, and the emotional shock he had suffered, his strength had abandoned him.

After some tries, he stood on his feet, but his knees buckled a couple of times. Taking a deep breath, he approached the stairs to the upper level of the room. There was another report thrown on the floor: A list of barcodes, deemed _compromised_ , set for incineration to avoid daemonification of personnel.

He had to run away from there.

As he climbed the stairs, Prompto saw that the glass window opened to a test chamber, where the smaller core slowly rotated. Around it were lined up many vats, connected to the core with tubes and cables, and all filled up with infected test subjects.

He ducked under a desk when he noticed two people inside that test chamber. Peering cautiously over the console, he saw the clones turning into a black mist inside the cylinders, and that mist being seeped into the tubes. That was the fuel the reports talked about.

The two people in the test chamber were talking; edging closer, he had to make a tremendous effort to distinguish the words over the thumping of his own heart.

“My friend,” Prompto recognized the chancellor’s voice. “Do you recall the child who was stolen from this facility?”

The other man grumbled something but, when he spoke, Prompto could identify his voice as that of the recordings.

“The one those Lucians absconded with?” the old man spat.

“Precisely,” the other said with a smarmy voice. “I thought you might like to see the fine young man he’s become these twenty-odd years later. So, as thanks for bringing your pets to Insomnia, I’ve brought the boy to you.”

Ardyn suddenly turned to the window and extended his hand in a dramatic gesture.

“The time has come to meet your maker,” he announced. “Any questions for daddy dearest? Father and son! Oh, how I love bringing families together!”

“No…” Prompto couldn’t keep his voice down. “It’s not true. You’re wrong, damnit!”

There was no other way: he had to go through that room. That would be a showdown between him and that old man.

“I don’t care what he says,” he kept repeating to himself as he stomped his way towards the door. “This place will _never_ be my home. My home is in Lucis… not here.”

There was another Ebony vending machine inside the antechamber to the experimental room, aside from a place to sit on and relax. Prompto saw some documents scattered over a coffee table: Sketches of a giant daemon called “Diamond Weapon”. Besithia had created them to unleash destruction upon Insomnia, according to the description. Scribbled in another piece of paper, Besithia raved about getting the Crystal for himself.

 _“So he’s the one behind the attack on Insomnia…”_ Prompto thought. _“He planned the whole thing. Everything we lost that day is gone because of him.”_

His queasiness was gone, as was the trembling on his hands. Knowing who had been directly responsible for the destruction of his city boosted his courage again, at least in part.

Carefully stepping into the chamber, handgun drawn, he saw Verstael gazing at the clones being turned one by one, not paying any attention to him, while the chancellor was nowhere to be seen. Rising from the center of the device, a spiral-like structure, like two intertwined snakes, revolved silently. Around the far wall, MTs stood dormant.

“What’s the matter?” asked the old man without looking at him. “Have you never seen a man turn before?”

Then the old man turned around, and Prompto almost dropped his weapon: his right face was as darkened as the bodies inside the vats, and the eye on that side, with black sclera and golden iris, moved independently from the left, blue one.

“If those Lucians hadn’t intervened, _you_ could have turned too,” Besithia accused.

“Why me?”

“Because you were cloned from this genius’ genes, born of my own flesh and blood. You are but one of millions created to serve our great empire in the magitek infantry.”

“Created…” suddenly, Prompto’s strength waned and the room started spinning around him. “To serve you?”

“Yes… and now you’ve finally come home to Niflheim, my son,” Verstael opened his arms. He was about to say something more, but Prompto fired a warning shot.

“Shut up!” the younger man screamed. Tears streamed down his cheeks. “You’re wrong… I’m a Lucian! I’m not one of your experiments!”

The scientist smirked, slowly edging towards him.

“Not anymore. Now you’re nothing but a _failure_. I ought to return you whence you came. Perhaps then you might serve some useful purpose.”

Black miasma poured from his right eye. He was already at an arm’s reach.

“Never!” Prompto regained momentarily his courage and aimed to the head, but his hands shook so badly he almost dropped the gun.

The man, however, was unfazed by his threat and kept approaching. Prompto didn’t want to shoot at him. He had never killed a human before, they had aimed his training at fighting MTs, beasts and daemons.

“With your help, my ascension to divinity is now all but complete,” Verstael raved, miasma and little black particles oozing from his infected skin.

Prompto froze at that sight. The man was now so close the putrid stench of the Scourge assaulted his nostrils with full force.

“Soon, neither the kings of Lucis nor the gods themselves will be able to challenge my reign!” Besithia reached out with his hands, taking Prompto’s face between them.

He shot.

The old man staggered backwards and fell, miasma and black mist rising from his body, instead of blood. Prompto dropped his gun and fell to his knees. He had killed a human.

A voice boomed through the lab’s speakers.

 _“Look what you’ve done,”_ Ardyn gasped. _“You’ve gone homicidal… no, patricidal!”_

“No…”

_“You lose your friends and murder your family. Now you’ve no one left!”_

Prompto screamed at him to shut up, but the chancellor’s laughter echoed through the chamber. Crying in frustration, the young man barely heard the computer’s announcement.

**“Vital functions decreasing. Plasmodium activity index increasing. Daemonification complete.”**

When he looked up, he saw through his tears the black smoke rising from where Verstael had been, leaving only his clothes behind, scattered on the floor.

**“Initiating transfer to Unit XDA-1002: Immortalis.”**

An alarm started blaring and red lights illuminated the room. He couldn’t find the strength to move anymore. Everything was useless at that point.

The wall to his right exploded and a gigantic beast fell from the hole. On top of it stood a warrior with a spear.

“You always play hard to get like this?” the warrior said.

“Aranea?”

“Save it, Blondie. On your feet!” she commanded, then went to a table to peek at some blueprints. “So _this_ is that new model they’re working on.”

Seeing that he didn’t move, she sighed, walking towards him.

“I dunno what’s got you so shook, but you can deal with it later. Let’s move.”

He still didn’t raise his head. She grabbed him by his lapel.

“I’m gonna say this once,” she growled, pulling him to his feet with a single yank. “Lose your will to live, and you lose all hope of me helping your sorry ass. Got it?”

The computer issued a warning:

**“Target detected. Capture and retrieve immediately. Commence capture and retrieval of compromised unit.”**

The few MT guards at the far back activated. Aranea swung his lance against them to take them off her back for a moment, trying to open a path towards the door to the right. Prompto saw her running without looking back, and he knew he had to follow her. Taking his gun, he dodged an attack from an imp, and ran as fast as he could.

With the turning of Verstael and the releasing of the miasma, daemons had spawned on the whole laboratory. They arrived at a hangar just in time for the computer to announce that the doors would be sealed in three minutes.

MTs, MAs and daemons swarmed around them. Running was more important than fighting at that moment, and so Prompto dodged and scurried his way forward, along with Aranea until he reached a snowmobile parked near the doors. She shoved a map into his hands.

“Head first… I’ll catch up later.”

“But what about you?”

“I said I’ll catch up,” she said, positioning her spear to strike a fighting pose.

“But what if y-”

“Just go!” She yelled.

He got on the snowmobile and sped through the exit tunnel.

The brightness of the snowy landscape blinded him for a moment. Looking at the map, Aranea had marked the location he had to go.

The path was filled with obstacles and MTs. Assault cruises flew overhead, raining fire over him. The mountain slope gave way to a forest that covered him from aerial assault, but driving through the trees was almost as dangerous.

The forest ended and he came into open space. A missile hit close enough for the shockwave to throw him over a ledge. The fall knocked the air out of his lungs, and he was left laying down on the snow.

He lain there, half-buried in the snow, waiting for the MTs to approach him, or an assault craft to land nearby. He knew that, if he started running, he would be a sitting duck, while the snow helped him to hide.

After a while, the only thing he could hear was the wind, and the distant sound of wolves, or maybe it was the same thing. He got up, turning the snowmobile back upright.

“Catch ya later, Aranea…” he whispered as he started the vehicle.

**xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx**

The path ahead of him seemed clear from soldiers. Savage beasts prowled the snowy plains, but they lost interest on him as soon as they saw he was faster.

A lake appeared behind a promontory. At the north shore, the rock formed a natural shelter from the elements and, inside it, a haven. That was the rendezvous point.

It didn’t take long for him to find the necessary wood to make a fire. Spending time with Gladio in the wild taught you one or two things.

Sitting alone with a can of preserved food, however, wasn’t the most cheerful thing in the world. Even so, he tried to lift his spirits.

“Almost as good as Iggy used to make,” he said to himself, laughing weakly. “Well, at least it’s quiet for a change.”

Humor had always been his coping mechanism each time he was worried or scared, or anyone near him was angry or sad. There were times, however, that it didn’t work. This time was one of them.

Prompto looked at his tattoo, that bothersome mark he had spent all his life trying to cover. He clawed at it in vain and cursed, then his eyes fixed on the bonfire and an idea dawned on his brain.

Taking a burning stick, he approached it to his arm. The wood crackled even away from the fire, and he could feel its heat through his thick clothes.

He took a deep breath, and pressed the wood against his arm. The pain was almost unbearable. His hoarse scream resonated in the valley bellow, and he held his arm in agony afterwards.

When it subsided, he looked at it and laughed bitterly. Under the bubbly, burnt flesh, there were still clear traces of the tattoo.

“…Branded for life.”

“Don’t tell me you thought that would work.”

He looked up. Aranea stood at the edge of the haven, with the body language of a stern teacher. Only her expression was a bit softer.

“ _Prompto_ , right?”

She approached and took his hand without even asking for permission, while holding a potion on her other hand. In a moment, the flesh on his arm was healed.

“You could at least look happy to see me,” she joked, sitting at his side.

He stammered something, but he was at a loss for words.

“I ran into your buddies in Tenebrae.”

At that he finally looked at her in the eye. Surprise was a good alternative to moping, Aranea decided.

“You’ve got ‘em worried sick,” she insisted. “You gonna go see ‘em or what?”

Prompto had lowered his head again, like an embarrassed child.

“I… I can’t,” he managed to say. “I’m not like them. I was born here… in Niflheim. All this time and I’ve never told them. And that’s not even the worst part. I wasn’t born into a happy family. I was _made_ … created in some laboratory. The entire reason why I exist is to make Noct and all of them miserable. How could I possibly see them? They’d never accept the real me.”

“You spent all that time driving around together and you still don’t know what kinda guys _they_ really are,” she smiled softly at his surprised face. “In case your forgot, your princely pal and I weren’t always on such friendly terms. But you know what? He put all that aside and asked me to make sure you were safe?”

“…he did?”

“Think he’d do that for someone who _makes him miserable_?”

It took a while for Prompto to build up the courage to ask something to Aranea.

“Did they say anything else about me?”

“Not that I can recall.”

“...Right.”

“His Highness was so worried about you he could barely speak, but don’t worry… I whipped him into shape.”

Prompto managed a weak smile.

“So… he doesn’t hate me after all,” he said, the images of what transpired in the train still vivid on his mind. “Is everybody okay?”

“All things considered, I guess. Sounds like they’ve been through a lot since you left, but they’re still dead set on getting to the capital.”

“…Hope they make it.”

“They’d have a better shot with you around.”

He grunted something, but refused to make eye contact again. Aranea sighed and got up, dusting her clothes.

“Look,” she said. “I can tell you want to get back together with them. So why not let them know?”

“You think they’d let me back? After all this? And even if they did let me back, I’d probably cause them nothing but trouble. I don’t know how I could live with myself…”

Aranea groaned loudly.

“Because you’re doing such a great job of living with yourself now,” she shoved him with her foot, making him fall on his back, to then kneel over him. “What _do_ you want, then.” Her green eyes flashed with fury. “You worry so much about what other people want from you that you can’t even know what _you_ want anymore! Your life isn’t yours to live! Forget about what everyone else thinks for a second and figure out what it is you’re really after here.”

She stood up and walked away. Prompto didn’t move from where he was.

“I’m going after that new model in the morning,” she said. “You’re on your own now, kid.”

When he gathered the strength to sit down again, she was long gone.

**xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx**

The following morning, he woke up upon hearing a dog barking outside. Stepping out of his hideout, Prompto saw a white dog running away. He shook his head, wasn’t that Pryna?

It had been a long time since he took care of her, but he had seen her growing up thanks to the photos Luna took and sent to Noctis on that notebook. That dog was her spitting image.

He tried following the animal, riding the snowmobile even but, somehow, the dog was faster.

Prompto saw the canine stopping at some distance, by a prone figure on the snow. Thinking it might have been an injured person whose dog was seeking help, he ran towards whoever it was. However, he skidded to a halt when he saw that it was an MT.

The young man sat down heavily by the metal soldier and closed his eyes. Too many things had happened lately. He should have felt relieved at the “dead” enemy, but knowing that the MTs were his lost family threw his entire world in disarray. What was he supposed to feel at that moment? He had been trained to kill them, to hate them, to fear them. Now he knew that, thanks to a capricious twist of Fate, he had been able to grow up instead of being kept in a vat, sleeping, waiting for others to harvest his life. Never knowing, never feeling. He tried to suppress his imagination, but he couldn’t help wondering how it would feel to be wrenched from the peaceful darkness of their deep sleep, to then being thrust into such unnatural bodies and being sent to sow death and destruction. Perhaps they didn’t feel anything except confusion and fear, he thought. They were programed to kill whatever they encountered, and their fate was to be massacred by those who only wanted to survive.

When he opened his eyes, the MT was gone and he heard footsteps behind him. Jumping to his feet and turning around, he saw Noctis, sword in hand, edging closer. Prompto held a hand before him and tried to say something, but he had no voice, and the hand he saw was clad in metal. No, it _was_ a metal hand. He ran away, as fast as his artificial body would allow him, but Noctis was very fast and he could warp. Nevertheless, the prince always seemed to miss him by a hair’s breadth.

Suddenly, the noises and Noctis’ voice stopped. Prompto turned around and saw he was alone again. His hands were back to being flesh and blood. Everything was normal now, though the sun had already set down and it was night time.

The white dog barked again near him and beckoned for him to follow. Now that the animal let him come closer, Prompto saw that it was, indeed, Pryna.

She guided him to a clearing which had been the site of a skirmish, and now it was filed with the scattered carcasses of several MTs. One of them still moved, though. The metal joints creaked and protested as it shook in mechanical spasms. Prompto gasped when the soldier reached out his hand towards him, as if pleading for help.

And suddenly it wasn’t an MT the thing on the ground. It was himself.

He shook his head and the illusion was dispelled. It was an MT, an enemy, a mindless puppet. Slowly, with trembling hands, he took his gun and aimed at the MT’s head. With tears rolling down his cheeks, he pulled the trigger.

He stood now among what remained of a raided camp: chairs and utensils had been toppled and overturned, the tent had been brought down and stomped and torn to pieces. Prompto’s heart skipped a beat when he came closer and realized everything was the brand Gladio insisted on using. At a distance, sitting near the edge of the ruined camp and covering his ears, there was a small, plump kid.

Whether if this was a dream or not, Prompto didn’t know, but he instantly recognized that kid as himself. He walked towards the child, and put a hand on his shoulder.

He was now sitting again at the stairs leading to the Palace, and he was a child again. A thick mist had fell on the Citadel, and he couldn’t see the other side of the plaza. Blue petals fell around him like snowflakes. Then he noticed Pryna waiting patiently for him, carrying a letter in her muzzle. The piece of paper smelled of perfume and the handwriting was elegant. It was a long letter, but all he could read was this:

_All I ask is that you continue to support Noctis, and hat you remain ever at his side._

That was the letter Luna had sent Prompto when they were kids. It had only taken a single act of kindness with a puppy for a princess to go out of her way and write letter of thanks.

 _“How does she expect someone like_ me _to support_ him _? Am I good enough?”_

There was a stack of photos under the piece of paper; the first one was the picture Cindy had taken with the four friends and the Regalia.

_“Does he want me around?”_

Another photo. A selfie Prompto had taken at the Wiz Chocobo Post with the others behind him. Everyone was smiling, even Ignis. He remembered that day, after they had defeated Deadeye and they could ride Chocobos for the first time.

_“Is that really what Noct and everyone else want? For me to be with them?”_

Another picture, the one they took right before setting sail for Altissia with Monica, Dustin, Talcott, Cid and Cor.

Prompto never knew why his parents adopted him in the first place, or what kind of place in the empire could keep babies, and for what, but never asked. With time, as he grew up, he assumed that they might have had pity on an abandoned kid no one would want because of that barcode on his writs, and did everything they could for him.

Truth be told, he had everything he needed: He had a comfortable home and enough money to buy the food his parents wouldn’t cook because they were always away. When Prompto shown an interest in photography, his foster father gave him a digital camera, the first he ever owned. When he shown interest in computers, they bought him one.

Then, why did he always feel so empty?

He never had anyone to talk to, yet he would always avoid any contact with other children for fear of them discovering his “secret”. His childish mind recoiled at the thought of being branded a foreigner or, worse, a spy.

One day he met Pryna, whom he named “Chibi”, and from that moment nothing would be the same ever again. Lady Lunafreya wrote him a letter, and asked Prompto keep being a good friend to Prince Noctis. _Keep being_! They had never been introduced, in the first place! Besides, what could a pleb offer a prince? And, Prompto was a foreigner, for crying out loud!

But a princess had asked her to do it. Prompto felt he couldn’t let her down, no matter what.

He ended up befriending Noctis, by a matter of chance, perhaps. The prince was a cool guy, and funny in his own way. Prompto did everything he could so Noctis kept him at his side. Sometimes fear clung to his chest like an icy claw; fear that, someday, the prince would tell him that he could no longer hang around with a pleb, but that moment never came.

One day, Prompto began his training as a Crownsguard, so that he could accompany Noctis on his way to Altissia and protect him, only because Noctis had requested that he, Prompto, had to accompany him. Weeks went by as they traveled around Lucis, seeing new places, meeting new people.

_“You think I’d make time for a loser?”_

Prompto remembered Noctis’ words, back when they sat at that motel’s rooftop. Aranea’s stories when they were searching for the mythril had disturbed him more than he wanted to admit.

There had been a few times when his parents had been talking at the living-room, thinking he was asleep. The only time he eavesdropped, he overheard something about him coming out of a “laboratory”, and experimentations with “daemons”. He plugged his ears and refused to keep listening, but that single sentence had been etched in his childish mind, and he started having recurring dreams about it, until he convinced himself that it was just nonsense: Kids came from either families or orphanages. Aranea’s story, paired what he had heard, made sense when put together, but he still refused to believe it.

Now he knew the truth: He had been produced to be harvested but, again, Chance had it that he would be rescued. Only him, from the million lives sacrificed to power up a war. He wound up in Insomnia and befriended a prince, of all people. What where the odds?

And yet… Noctis said he wanted him around.

“Wait… but what about _me_?” he said aloud. “What do _I_ want?”

Try as he might, he couldn’t imagine any other life for himself. Traveling with Noctis, Gladiolus and Ignis had taught him a great deal about life. They had accepted Prompto without question, and that was far more than what he had expected from anyone. Even when he knew he was being obnoxious, they still had room for him in their group.

He got up, noticing that the ground wasn’t that close to his eyes anymore. He was taller and felt nimbler.

“It took me a while, but I finally found my answer.”

He took his beloved camera from the stairs and looked up to the palace’s door. The mist had lifted and the sun shone bright on him.

“It’s time.” Prompto said, and he climbed the stairs to a set of doors he knew would always open for him, no matter what.

**xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx**

He opened his eyes to see he was sitting still where he found the first fallen MT. His camera was in his hands. Gripping it, he stood up and came back to the refuge. He had only walked a short distance, despite his visions. The snowmobile was when he had parked it the previous night, and Aranea stood near, waiting for him. She seemed surprised, though.

“I’m ready,” he declared. Then he pursed his lips and added: “I thought about what you said, and I’ve decided to face my fears once and for all. I can’t choose where I came from, but I can choose where I’m going.”

“Alright,” she smiled. “But slow me down and you’re going to get left behind.”

Aranea’s words were harsh, but the expression in her face was kind. The lesson she wanted to teach him wasn’t lost, however, and he squared his shoulders, ready for whatever she intended to do.

She filled him about her plan: He would drive the snowmobile to the research factory, a complex not far from where they were. There they would fight against the guards to gain entry. She warned him about it being a dangerous mission, but he accepted the challenge.

On their way to the factory, they noticed that most of the fauna had disappeared, as if the magitek soldiers had scared them away.

The research factory wasn’t unlike the imperial bases he had helped dismantle with his friends. Tall watch towers flanked the entrance, and several soldiers patrolled the area. He wished he had Noctis’ warping abilities.

Prompto soon discovered that Aranea and himself made a good team. He could sneak around without being detected, and she could do all the muscle work. The factory was indeed as heavily guarded as Aranea said, and once or twice he thought they were about to be overwhelmed.

Once they cleared the access, Prompto used the touch panel to scan his barcode. It opened slowly, and it let them enter a tunnel burrowing into the mountain in a steep slope.

“According to my intel, they’re housing the new model here,” said Aranea as they both hurried down into the underground factory.

“It’s some kind of magitek armor, right? What’s so _new_ about it?”

“This one’s got a ghost in the machine: Chief Besithia himself. Managed to fuse his soul with the core.”

That was the process he witnessed, and that was why Besithia didn’t care if Prompto aimed a gun at him or not. Dying was his plan, either from the infection or from any other cause.

“The daemons this guy created destroyed Insomnia,” she continued. “If we don’t take him out now… He’s liable to destroy the whole world.”

They reached an elevator and took it. Prompto gritted his teeth and suppressed his claustrophobia, trying not to think how deep inside the mountain they were traveling.

Crossing through an antechamber, they reached a warehouse. Disposing of the soldiers and sentinels there was far easier now that he had Aranea at his side. He either distracted them or delivered the killing shot, and it would have taken less time if reinforcements hadn’t arrived constantly. It was after they had disabled the third wave of robots that they could finally continue their way into the lab.

They followed another corridor going deeper into the mountain, which led to another room with benches and an Ebony vending machine where they took a brief rest. There Prompto found some logs from a former lab worker. The author was a young man who felt pretty happy to start working there under the orders of Besithia; the following entries showed how the worker’s enthusiasm soured, as he had trouble coping with the experiments within the research facility and, in the last entry Prompto could read, the nameless scientist complained about having to clean a leak of plasmodium in one of the labs, and the scolding he received from the Chief.

Prompto found also two more recordings from Besithia. One from 724: Mass production of the MTs was a success, and they had cornered the Lucian army and surrounded Insomnia. He also rambled about the daemons born of the sublimation process, and to which ends they might be used.

The other recording was the final one, dating from that very year, 756. There, Besithia announced that his life’s work was complete.

_“Not only have I found a way to preserve the ego, I’ve also managed to sustain that consciousness through the sublimation process and transfer it into my magitek troopers. The prototype had proven slightly less powerful than the Diamond Weapon, but this presents no real problem. After all, one’s consciousness can be transmuted again and again and again. All that remains is to fully surrender myself to my research and become my own final test subject. I will conclude my mortal life by offering a word of thanks. Chancellor Ardyn Izunia, your assistance had proven invaluable. You have my eternal gratitude. It is through your aid that I have completed my work and begun my ascension to an existence beyond divinity.”_

Of course it was Ardyn. Everywhere they went, his name kept coming up.

They continued their way, coming upon a giant chamber. A grunt made them look up.

In another life it must have been a giant ape of some sorts. Now it was a half-beast, half-machine monstrosity what looked at them with artificial eyes while it hung upside down from the ceiling.

Using the same tactic of distraction from Prompto and hard hitting from Aranea, they could kill the monster. It took them a long time to wear it down, and the battle seemed to take a turn for the worse when the organic parts of the beast caught on fire and threatened to burn them too. Killing it seemed more like an act of mercy.

“Made it out alive,” Prompto huffed edging closer to the giant corpse.

Their joy was short-lived. Suddenly the ground started shaking.

**“Unit XDA-1002: Immortalis. Plasmodic miasma transfer complete. No psychic obstructions detected. All systems operational. Activating Immortalis.”**

Whatever it was, it was happening outside. They ran as fast as they could back to the access door and out of the factory. The ground shook so strongly it almost made them loose their balance once they were outside. Looking back, they saw the whole building exploding as a gigantic, mechanical worm slithered out of the mountain. Its head, divided in seven smaller segment surrounding an eight, central one, was as big at the whole factory’s entrance.

“So that’s the _new model_ ,” Prompto said aloud. “And that means… _he_ must be inside that thing.”

He heard a snowmobile behind him. While he had been distracted, gawking at the mechanical monstrosity, Aranea had gone to fetch a vehicle. This one had a machine gun at the rear.

Thinking that a simple machine gun could beat a gargantuan monster would have been ridiculous, but the truth was that it seemed to work. While Verstael chased them down the mountain, raving about becoming a god in that _perfect_ form he had created, the machine gun proved to be extremely effective against its heads, whenever they intended to gather energy and shoot. However, those were the only weak points, for the armor covering the rest of the body was immune to any type of weapon.

That small flaw hadn’t been overlooked during the research and development of the Immortalis. Verstael had voiced his concerns when he first saw those weak points but Ardyn, who had advised him during the process, brushed them off and wove a subtle tale of possibilities and immortality. Besithia had always been a brilliant man, though his hubris knew no bounds and, like the Immortalis, that apparently unimportant flaw was his undoing.

One by one, Prompto destroyed the worm’s heads, which were especially vulnerable during the energy-gathering phase. Once they were all disabled, the worm fell down heavily on the snow, to rise again with a roar of fury from Verstael, its magitek cores in the head and all along the body flaring dangerously.

Prompto focused his aiming on the central core. It seemed to be even more vulnerable, but it also gathered a bigger amount of energy. A single misstep could cost them their lives.

Aiming carefully, the young man stopped each incoming wave, and each time Verstael tried again to gather energy. Prompto’s hands felt clammy inside the gloves and, as he shot, he prayed that the snowmobile’s tank and the ammo lasted more than the giant worm.

The central core finally exploded, and the whole construct went off, falling to the valley and raising a wave of snow and dirt. Prompto closed his eyes, finally resting his head against the machine gun. His arms and hands felt numb. Nevertheless, he afforded himself a little smile when he heard Aranea shouting in celebration.

**xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx**

They looked at the devastation the worm had left behind it. At least it was really dead now. Aranea looked at Prompto, who stood some steps ahead of her. Even from behind, the kid looked like he was about to barf. Didn’t surprise her, considering what they had gone through.

“You alright?” she asked.

He straightened up and squared his shoulders.

“Yeah,” he said, trying to keep his voice from trembling. “This is what I wanted.”

“Then say it like you mean it. You did good, kid.”

He turned to her and made a pointing gesture, his whole demeanor changed. Now he was again the kid she met at the ruins, back at the Vesperpool.

“Couldn’t have done it without _you_ , gurl!” He said. “Seriously, though. Well, I’d better catch up with Noct and the guys. He’s got a lot on his plate, and I figure he could probably use a hand taking back the Crystal and all that. And who knows? Maybe _I’ll_ take it back before _he_ does.”

That was better.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Aranea warned him, though she was smiling at him with something akin to pride.

“Honestly,” Prompto admitted as he checked the snowmobile. “I don’t know for sure if they’re going to accept me for who I really am. But I’ll never know if I don’t speak up, so I’m gonna tell ’em. After all, it’s my life to live.”

The confidence in those eyes spoke louder than any word he could say, and that was enough for Aranea.

“The boy has become a man,” she declared, then she pointed at a direction with her hand. “Anyway, Gralea’s straight ahead.”

He hopped on the snowmobile.

“Aranea!”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks!”

She couldn’t help a smile. It wasn’t every day that you could see someone growing up in a few hours.

Prompto sped away towards Gralea with a new purpose and feeling how a weight had been lifted from his heart.

Standing at a hilltop, a man with a long, black coat had witnessed everything, and would continue to keep an eye on the fleeing gunslinger. Smiling, he hummed a victory fanfare.

**xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx**

The clang of a closing metal door woke him up. His head hurt and throbbed as if he had been hit very hard. Even trying to shake it to dispel the grogginess resulted in agonizing pain.

Opening his eyes, he could see his feet. He was strung up to some metal device. Looking up, he could only see the bars of a holding cell and beyond, a corridor which disappeared into darkness.

He thrashed against his restrains, but it was futile. All his physical strength spent, he cried out for help.

His voice echoed through the empty corridors and into the darkness. No other sound could be heard.


	36. The Long Night

**BOOK 2: THE TALE OF THE CHOSEN KING  
**

**CHAPTER 24 –** **THE LONG NIGHT**

There was a general sense of relief upon leaving Ghorovas Rift behind. The weather was suddenly much warmer and the train’s metal components didn’t squeak and groan anymore.

“We should be drawing close to Gralea,” said Ignis.

“Yeah,” Noctis sighed. He was bored to tears at the darkness outside. They were traversing through a very long tunnel at that moment, but the landscape outside was no better. To their knowledge, the daemons had cut the power supply in large parts of the country, and there was no moon that night.

“I can’t imagine what it’ll be like,” Gladio wondered, stretching his arms.

“Swarming with daemons, but you knew that.”

“Don’t remind me.”

“Once we arrive, we’ll make for the Keep,” Ignis reminded them.

“The Keep?” Noctis asked.

“Zegnautus. An imperial mega fortress said to be impregnable.”

“With Prompto and the Crystal inside it,” the king surmised.

“What goes in, must come out,” Gladio quoted. “So, are we buying this story that the Crystal can purge daemons?”

“The Proof is in the purging, but it does stand to reason,” Ignis pointed out. “We’ve observed that as the nights have grown longer, the daemons hordes have grown stronger. If they are in fact averse to the Crystal’s Light, it could save nor only Lucis, but the world.”

“We’ll find our once we take it back,” said Noctis.

At that moment, the light flickered and the train lurched to a halt.

“The hell?” Gladio sworn.

“What is it?” the retainer inquired.

“My guess? Something to sidetrack us.”

They all stood up and made their way to the engine, but when they reached the sleeping car, something hit the train so hard they all fell to the ground. Biggs’ voice sounded through the speakers.

_“City’s trying to keep us out… with the daemons.”_

Imps clambered to the already damaged windows, banging at them.

 _“Gotta run!”_ Biggs yelled. _“Don’t worry about us.”_

The windows exploded inwards and the imps invaded the car.

“Let’s get to work…” Noctis murmured, conjuring his sword.

Nothing.

“What’s wrong?” Gladio's eyes widened in surprise.

“The weapons,” Noctis stammered. “They’re stuck!”

Gladio shoved the king aside and sent one of the imps flying away with a hard kick. More were pouring in through the broken glass. The Shield turned around, grabbed Ignis by the arm and tugged at Noctis to run towards the rear.

Kicking and dodging their way forward wasn’t easy in such close quarters. Once or twice Noctis saw the imps’ claws too close to his face.

“Only a matter of time before we run out of room to run!” Ignis yelled.

“You have a better idea?” the king yelled, kicking one monster away from him.

“We trade the train for the Regalia!”

The freight car, devoid of windows, was the safest place so far. The Regalia sat there patiently until Noctis and Gladio unstrapped the tires and the king sat behind the wheel.

They drove out and made a U-turn, stepping on the gas and swerving to avoid the daemons. Over the noise, they could herd that security system announcing:

**“Threat upgraded. Activating level 4 security measures. Sealing all gates.”**

“Where are we now!?” asked Ignis, gripping at his seat.

“Inside a tunnel on the train tracks!” Noctis yelled.

“Don’t slow down or they’ll catch us up!” Gladio said, looking over his shoulder.

Noctis had his eyes fixed on the road, not daring to spare a glance to the rear mirror. Their train hadn’t been the only vehicle stranded there: many containers lay overturned, their cargo scattered along the tunnel, remains of other derailed trains burnt, and Noctis had to put all his attentions on not crashing with the obstacles and the daemons.

Exiting the tunnel, they still had a long way until they reached the gates. Looking through the windows, Gladio noticed that the only illumination came from the street lamps along the rails and that most buildings were dark and half dilapidates, as if they traveled through a war zone.

Something exploded in front of them: Assault crafts attacked them.

“One clean hit and it’s over,” the Shield warned.

“It’ll take a bit more than that to stop His Majesty’s trusty steed,” Ignis assured. Gladio said nothing, but he doubted the Regalia’s armor-plating could stop a missile.

Bullets flew now over them. The incessant rain made the road dangerously slippery.

“You can do it, girl,” Noctis murmured, approaching the closing door at full speed, but it seemed agonizingly slow for the king and his Shield. “You can get through this.”

When they finally crossed the door, a missile hit the back of the car. Cindy had promised them that the reinforcements they had paid for would withstand anything. It was true that they weren’t dead, not even harmed, but the car had been totaled.

Through the broken window shield, Noctis could see the smoke rising from under the hood. All the alarms on the dashboard flashed for a moment, and then they went out.

“That’s all she’s got,” Gladio said, getting off the car.

“It’ll do,” said Noctis.

They would have to continue on foot. That didn’t bother Noctis in the least, but leaving the Regalia there was like leaving a piece of his life behind. That car was the only thing he had left of him. Regis had passed the Ring of the Lucii down to him, but the jewel was a family heirloom. The Regalia, however, had been among the later king’s most treasured possessions.

Looking at the wrecked car, Noctis felt a pang on his chest. The Regalia had been his father’s car ever since he could remember. The only tangible connection he had left with Regis.

“Dad… Thanks for everything,” Noctis murmured.

But so absorbed he was on his memories that he didn’t notice Gladio already scouting the surroundings. They still had to keep pressing on, no matter what.

“Are we seriously marching into the capital empty-handed?” the Shield said.

“And with no assurances the Crystal can beat back the daemon hordes,” Ignis tapped the ground with his cane.

“Guess we’ll find out the hard way.” Gladio sighed. “No turning back now, right?”

They had been stopped near the train station, which had been the site of an accident: two trains had derailed and now the cars partially blocked the path. One of them left an opening underneath, but was precariously balanced between the next car and a mountain of debris.

“This thing could come down at any time…” Gladio said, looking uneasily at it.

Noctis hurried them to run under it before it collapsed. It wobbled dangerously when he slid under it to the other side but, as his two friends prepared to follow him, the car gave a sickening creak as it fell heavily, blocking the way and separating Noctis from his friends.

“Hey! Ignis! Gladio!”

But the sound of the rain and the crafts flying overhead drowned his screams. He had no other choice but to follow the initial plan. Biggs and Wedge had told them of the building next to the railroads with a direct access to the elevator. That was the place Noctis had to reach, praying that his friends could find another route.

He heard the giggling and the scrapping of talons behind him. Imps spawned everywhere now. He dodged and ducked, kicking at them once or twice, but not risking any close quarters.

A voice could be heard through the station speakers.

 _“Look at you. All by your lonesome,”_ Ardyn gloated.

“You again.” Noctis hissed, his voice trembling with rage and fear. “You know, for an imperial chancellor, you are one sick son of a bitch.”

He ran as fast as his legs and the slippery ground allowed him. At a short distance he saw the stairs to the building Aranea’s men told him about. He climbed, running and dodging the imps, until he finally reached the door. Banging it shut behind him, he leaned heavily against it.

He was alone.

The building he had entered was half lit at best. The few light sources worked only at half power, as if there wasn’t enough power supply. His flashlight illuminated his surroundings, but the atmosphere felt strange, as if the very air dimmed the light.

He was alone.

Despite his anger, Ardyn’s words had gotten under his skin. He was alone, with no weapons and no allies.

However…

There was something he still had: The Ring.

Images of his father flashed before him, like in a half-forgotten dream, battling the monster the empire had sent to kill Noctis as a child. He saw the weapons flying, and a blue light shone on his father’s hand.

Regis had told him that the Ring had the power to fight daemons on its own, but never specified, and Noctis never asked, thinking that there would always be time for that.

But now that wasn’t what troubled him at that moment, nor had been what had troubled him since he got the Ring.

Was he worthy?

Noctis had always heard tales of usurpers who tried to steal the Ring’s power and burned to ashes for their insolence. They didn’t deserve the Kings of Old’s favor because their blood wasn’t from the Lucis Caelum line. But, was blood right the only thing that counted? No matter how he looked at it, he didn’t see himself as a king. Noctis had put a brave face in front of Luna when they were kids so as not disappoint her, and always acted cool before his friends for the same reason.

His fingers trembled as he took the Ring out of his pocket. Gladio had scolded him for not wearing it as a king should, but a king protected, and all who meant something for him had come to harm: His father, Luna, Prompto, Ignis… the image of good old Jester flashed before his eyes, and Iris, now alone at fifteen and having to take care of Talcott.

However, if he didn’t wear the Ring and accept whatever judgment the Kings might pass on him, he wouldn’t be able to at least salvage what little he had left.

Noctis held his breath as the jewel slid into his middle finger, and screamed as a jolt of energy ran through his body. His right hand felt as if it burnt for a moment, and then it calmed, thought a faint tingling remained on his skin. The Kings hadn’t appeared before him, but he wasn’t dead either. Power coursed through his body, like when he summoned the Royal Arms, but it was a subtler kind of energy.

“The time has come,” he whispered, almost without breath.

Looking around him, the building looked as if it had been abandoned years ago instead of days. Debris and garbage littered the ground, forgotten cargo blocked many doors and there was no power supply to activate certain accesses.

An imp spawned in front of him. Instead of running away, Noctis raised his hand. He felt the energy of the daemon being seeped into the Ring as whispers rang on his ears, until the daemon disappeared in a small explosion of light.

This was the power of the Ring. At least he wouldn’t be as defenseless as he thought. However, he was worried about Gladio and Ignis. The Shield could fend for himself but Ignis…

Traversing the labyrinthine corridors was a painful chore on itself. The Ring was a very effective weapon, but the sheer number of daemons prowling about made him take and excruciatingly long time to reach his goal.

Near the elevator’s door, Noctis walked into a balcony overlooking part of Gralea. Far from the bustling metropolis that had once been Insomnia, Gralea looked like a giant military camp. Despite the power outage and the damages caused by the daemons, Noctis knew he should been able to see remnants of neon signs announcing hotels, restaurants or shops of any kind. Instead, he could see many warehouses, far too many to be normal, and the other constructions had all the same design, as if they were more barracks than apartment blocks.

What kind of life did the empire force on its people?

Now daemons swarmed the warehouses and the buildings, immune to artificial light. Overhead, strange monsters taken out of a fever dream flew like birds of prey.

Ironic that the empire had destroyed Insomnia with daemons, to see its capital overrun in the same manner.

The elevator was near. After turning on the switches, he could finally take it to the top of the building.

The upper levels weren’t better. According to the map Biggs had drawn for him, he was already inside the Keep. He only had to get to the upper levels and search for Prompto.

The elevator doors opened with a loud squeak. Beyond, there was a narrow, half-lit corridor. Everything was eerily quiet.

 _“How does it feel to be powerless?”_ Ardyn purred through the announcement system. The sudden noise made Noctis jump out of his boots. _“Can’t help your friend if you can’t help yourself.”_

Noctis set his jaw and continued, trying not to listen to the chancellor. He tiptoed his way through the corridor, turning each corner very carefully.

 _“Can’t you simply taste the air of foreboding?”_ The chancellor asked, almost giggling, to then laughing openly.

Noctis shook his head. That bastard was only playing mind games with him, trying to distract him.

As he suspected, when the laughter died, he thought he could hear a faint, grinding noise, like a rusted piece of metal on a construct. He edged quietly towards a corner and peeked around.

Ardyn stood at the end of that corridor. There was a fallen MT at his feet. Noctis saw how the chancellor walked away, and the soldier got up with jerking movements. Something was wrong with that trooper: It dragged its axe behind it, and the plate and the mask were missing, revealing only two red dots of light in what should have been a face.

The Ring wouldn’t help him with that one. Imps were weak, but MTs were far stronger. Seeing that the axeman wobbling towards him, he hid in a crevice in the wall. There he saw the axeman limping past him. He stood there, quietly listening to any change in the sound. The axeman had gone quite far from where Noctis hid and had turned a corner. Now it was getting louder again. It shuffled past him again.

Noctis held his breath, feeling his heart pounding on his ears, and waited until the axeman returned and shuffled past him, to then sneak and run as fast and silently as he could.

_“Must be tiring, having to run all the time. That magic is a royal disappointment.”_

He stalked his way through the corridors, straining his hearing for the shuffling of feet and the grinding of metal. There was yet another soldier patrolling the corridor ahead. Using the same trick, he outsmarted the rogue trooper and opened a door.

Beyond that door he could see a catwalk over a deep void. Said walkway led to a circular base where other catwalks converged, each one leading to other parts of the complex.

 _“It’s all coming down swimmingly, isn’t it?”_ Ardyn laughed softly.

Noctis observed that he had come from the east door. The north and west were closed. The south catwalk was strewn with dormant MTs. Tiptoeing his way past them, he walked into another set of corridors.

Hearing footsteps, he peeked around a corner. It was Prompto, running away from something.

“Hey, Prompto!” Noctis yelled, running after him and throwing caution to the wind.

He didn’t notice the fallen MT ahead until its claws wrapped around his ankles, knocking him down. The king struggled, trying to free his legs. This MT glowed all over in a way Noctis knew too well.

Kicking the trooper away, he scrambled to his feet and hid behind a crate just in time for the MT to explode.

He kept going, maybe too hastily to what would have been prudent, and despite the many dormant MTs scattered through the area. Noctis could only focus on Prompto being there.

The path ended after another turn. An active MT shuffled its way around, as if patrolling and, ahead, there was a door. Noctis hid the best he could until he could open that door and climbed the stairs beyond, hearing Ardyn’s soft laughter.

He caught a glimpse of Prompto at the top of the stairs, but his friend darted away.

_“Poor Prompto must be feeling the heat right about now.”_

Following the corridor, he found that metal bars blocked the path to the room beyond. The cell door was closed and, just out of his reach, slumped on a chair, was Prompto.

He tried following another corridor, since he had spied another door leading to that room. There were more MTs he had to dodge and hide from, until he reached a room he thought connected with the one Prompto was trapped in. Noctis had thought about searching for some tools and breaking-in, but then he discovered a narrow space between two walls for him to crawl. When he was inside that space, he heard Prompto’s voice, muffled as if someone was gagging him, but it definitely sounded as if he tried to scream for help.

Squeezing his body out of the crawling space, Noctis came upon a storage room full of crates. Hastily climbing his way over them, he could finally see Prompto.

Noctis’ hand trembled slightly when he tried to reach for his friend’s shoulder, trying not to think about how still Prompto was, or that he didn’t seem to be breathing. His shoulder was cold to the touch when the king’s hand closed over it but, when the gunslinger’s body slumped to the floor, it was the carcass of a MT what fell instead.

“Another trick! Back to square one!” he yelled in frustration.

The bars door opened on their own, or so it seemed. Ardyn was surely in some control room, playing cat and mouse with Noctis.

 _“That’s one of my personal favorites.”_ Ardyn giggled as Noctis stomped his way out of that room. _“You should have seen the look on your face. You’d best hurry. Next time, it might really be your friend.”_

Try as he might, Ardyn’s was slowly getting into his skin. Noctis clenched his teeth and kept walking, trying to ignore the chancellor’s voice. He had to reach the fifth level, no matter what, to reach the lift.

_“Are you certain it wasn’t the real thing? Wouldn’t want to make a mistake.”_

Noctis returned to the catwalks. Now the one leading westwards was accessible, leading to a small lift. The king let go of a sigh of relief when he saw that it probably would take him to the fifth level.

_“Your heart’s desire, so close now. Soon it will be within your grasp. I suggest you take the central elevator. It will take you to your goal.”_

“Aren’t you helpful now,” Noctis said bitterly, stomping his way along the catwalk towards the lift.

_“The higher you climb…”_

He should have seen it coming. A giant daemon landed on the small elevator’s platform when Noctis was halfway there. It looked like a massive metal statue and wielded a gigantic sword. With a single strike, it smashed the catwalk, and sent it all coming down.

_“… the further you fall.”_

**xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx**

When he woke up, Noctis found himself at the base of the elevator tower. Somehow, the magic of the Ring had protected him from the fall. Or that was what he wanted to believe.

Looking around him, the king saw his father’s sword nailed to the ground. Attached to the handle, and still gripping it, a prosthetic arm, dripping magitek fluids. Ravus lain at its side. Dead.

Upon touching the hilt, the arm came loose and fell on top of the Lord of Tenebrae’s corpse. Noctis knelt at his side to inspect him: Ravus showed signs of a struggle, as if he had fought to the death. Word was that he had been executed but, somehow, he had survived long enough to see the empire fall.

Taking Regis’ sword, it shone with its own light and entered the new king’s body. At long last, all the weapons of the Kings were with him and, to his relief, he could summon the sword of his father.

Scattered all over Ravus’ body and around it, there were handwritten sheets of paper with the Royal Seal of Tenebrae: Letters, written in an elegant calligraphy, from Ravus to Luna. On the first one, he urged his sister to return to the Manor (no doubt after she had escaped from Insomnia), and warned her of the empire being fearful of her covenant with the Archaean. On the second one, Ravus insisted that Noctis wasn’t worthy of her sacrifice and of King Regis’ sword, despite attaining the Storm’s blessing. The third and last one advised her to seek refuge in Altissia. He had already come to terms with her sister seeking the covenants and the price to pay, and promised that, should Noctis succeed in claiming the power, Ravus would gladly restore King Regis’ sword to him.

What Luna’s lady in waiting told him back at Tenebrae was true, and not an exaggeration born out of loyalty. Ravus tried his best to defend Luna, going so far as to try and defy the gods’ will. Everything to protect her. Noctis pursed his lips. Had he known before, things might have been different. But he was too focused on his personal vendetta against the empire to see anything else. Or to even care.

He closed his eyes. _How long have you been in the dark?_ Those had been Ardyn’s last words before Prompto disappeared. How long, indeed?

“Rest easy,” Noctis murmured to Ravus. “Your work is done.”

He left Ravus where he lay, making a mental not of where it was to return later. No matter how much enmity had been between the two, Luna’s brother deserved a proper burial.

The king followed a catwalk which lead to an open door, praying that it could lead him out of that labyrinth, and that the MTs scattered along his path weren’t dormant, but deactivated.

He felt a sudden pain on his ankle. All around him the MTs shivered into life, their red eyes fixed on him.

Kicking the one restraining his leg, Noctis jumped back and summoned his father’s sword.

“Well Dad,” he murmured with a grim smile. “Let’s see what your sword can do.”

Having a weapon in his hand felt more reassuring. The first seconds he had to test his own balance and strength, but the sword seemed to adapt itself to him. Plucking up courage, he hacked at the robots with all the pent-up rage he had.

When the last MT fell, he followed what he thought would be the exit. After traversing through more corridors and finding an access to the other side of the upper platform, he heard Ardyn’s voice again.

_“You really are helpless without your friends babysitting you.”_

Noctis finally reached a side elevator that took him to a different side of the level he had fallen from. The corridor he followed was devoid of MTs or daemons and, after a turn, it ended on a control room with three more doors. All closed except the one in front of him.

_“The empire made considerable inroads into the science of daemons. Well, after I showed them the way, of course.”_

Opening the door, Noctis saw what looked like a laboratory. Uniforms were scattered here and there, as if the owners had thrown them there. A faint sense of dread sat on the pit of his stomach.

_“We’d managed to make daemons… right here.”_

Reaching to the control panel, Noctis saw a number of switches and cards. Over his head, a diagram of the eight rooms surrounding the one he stood in. The green lights signaled open doors, and with a combination of switches, he could continue forward.

_“Your head can do more than wear a crown. Use it.”_

Solving puzzles had never been too difficult for him, but being under stress and suffering the constant harassment of daemons made things frustratingly slow.

The door accessing he second room finally opened with a swishing wound. As soon as he approached it, Noctis had to cover his mouth a nose to fight the nausea. There were cages lined up along the walls, all filled with decomposed carcasses of wild animals.

_“Ever wonder where daemons come from? Once upon a time, they were children of nature… beasts and men. Aw, you’ve killed so many.”_

Slowly, the king approached the nearest one. There was a wolf inside, or what appeared to have been a wolf once. Its fur had fallen in places where lumps shone in red and black, and the body had contorted unnaturally before its dead. A hole in the head and a pool of black ooze still seeping out suggested that the beast had been put down out of mercy.

That black ooze was the same daemons left behind.

All the other cages had animals of different species, but similar fates. All deformed, all contorted as if suffering a great agony. All sacrificed before whatever cruel experiment reached fruition.

With slightly shaky hands, Noctis unlooked the rooms one by one, trying not to listen to Ardyn, but it was impossible.

 _“The infantry units you callously dub_ MTs _all began as babes in this very facility.”_ He explained nonchalantly, as if he was a tour guide. _“Imprinted with serial codes an incubated until they were strong enough to fight. What a pity. Innocent souls fated to suffer… at the hands of a foreign king. Well, not so_ MT _after all are they?”_

That made no sense at all. The MTs were robots, right?

Still… there was that sound they made when they were “killed”…

At long last, he could unlock the room leading him out of there and into another corridor, which led to an office. It was a tidy room, at least.

_“The most fascinating tidbit about your dear Prompto…”_

“What?”

 _“Turns out, he’s not empty either. He’s got quite the_ skeleton in his closet _.”_

Noctis shook his head. Why Ardyn had that fixation with Prompto?

There were some reports left over a desk. They were from some weeks prior. Apparently there had been a daemon outbreak and many MTs, yet to be correctly programmed, had gone rogue. On top of that, all the patients at the infected area had disappeared.

_Infected area?_

Did that mean that what he had seen in the room with the cages was actually an infection? Did the Scourge work like an illness?

Following the next corridor, he came upon an archive room. Instead of rushing his way out, Noctis searched, almost feverishly, for any clue about what happened in that place.

He finally found a report from some days prior, roughly from around the day they had lost Prompto. It read like this:

_More than half the keep’s inhabitants are now daemons. There’s no hope of neutralizing them, not with lost control over the MTs. Outside, the city swarms with yet more daemons… former citizens. There’s no escape._

Noctis reread it several times. Aranea, with her nonchalant conversation, didn’t get near all the horror this last log evoked. Maybe she was just happy to have run away with all the survivors she could rescue and didn’t want to remember anything else.

The next room was small and untidy, yet he could find a keycard which let him access the small lift to the fifth level.

Going back on his steps, he discovered that the door he had used to enter that level was now closed shut, yet another one nearby had opened. This one gave access to a shaft, not very different from the one where the main elevator was, but in this one there was a circular room at the central platform. It was closed, but that wasn’t what caught Noctis’ attention: the shaft’s far walls were covered with boxes made of dark metal. Small, red lights flickered at the top of each one, and a shiver ran down the king’s back when he realized they weren’t very different from coffins.

“Bet there’s something here.” He muttered, redirecting his attention to the closed door. “Which means it’s locked. And if it’s locked, there’s a key.”

Trying to ignore the grim spectacle around him, he went to a control panel on the other side of the platform and inserted the key card. The platform moved and began ascending.

“Things are lookin’ up,” he dared to say aloud.

_“How will this story end, I wonder.”_

Not sooner Ardyn has finished his musing, and before Noctis had any time to roll his eyes in frustration, a loud alarm started blaring as a computer voice issued a warning.

**“Intruder alert. Mobilizing dormant magitek infantry.”**

The caskets along the far walls opened, and MTs jumped into the platform, ready for combat. Noctis reacted rather quickly, but he noticed with increasing unease that it would be a matter of minutes until he was overwhelmed.

 _“Were_ are _your friends? You don’t think they ran off without you? You still haven’t found Gladio?”_

Noctis slashed through one MT’s armor, cutting it down. He still couldn’t use his warping powers, but his father’s sword was very effective.

_“Only a matter of time before Ignis bumbles into a trap.”_

Tripping an axeman, he sent it plummeting into the void.

_“You must feel very much alone right now.”_

Noctis’ sword sunk on the plate of a trooper, then slashed at another. He ducked as an axe swished near his head.

The platform kept its slow ascending while he fought. Ardyn’s laughter sounded over the noise of the alarm, and it only served to fuel Noctis’ anger.

When the last MT fell, he sunk against the outer wall of the chamber, sweating and short of breath. His father’s sword acted like all the weapons from the Kings of Old, feeding from his energy. He should have been more careful, but he had no choice. It wasn’t until he reached for one of the potions he stored that he realized how tired he was.

The platform stopped, and the only open exit would lead him through a catwalk to the north. All along the path and well into the corridor, MTs were scattered on the ground. Noctis stopped for a second, as if hesitating, then closed his eyes and sighed. Clenching his fists and jaw, he continued his way forward. Around a corner and along the next corridor, there were even more MTs on the floor. Far ahead, he could see two consecutive frames from opened doors, as if they were security barriers of some short. The small portion of corridor they left in between was full of dormant robots. And, at the far end, what looked like a control room.

_“In case there was any doubt: It’s a trap.”_

Noctis ran as fast as he could, dreading the doors to close and trapping him in between that space.

With a snap, the _doors_ activated. In between the frames, electricity beams crackled as if they were bars from a cage. The MTs woke up, and the frames began moving, closing the space he was trapped in.

_“Hurry. While you dawdle, people are dying.”_

The king started dealing with the robots, which were the most immediate threat. He noticed with horror that these ones were far more resilient than the ones he fought back at the elevator. Desperation started welling up as the trap closed on him. There was still room enough to move and fight but if someone didn’t disable it he would be electrocuted in the end.

“Noct? Is that you?”

That was Ignis’ voice. He didn’t answer, tired of Ardyn’s mind games.

“Hey! Noct! Can you hear us?”

That was Gladio’s voice. It came from the control room Noctis had wanted to access earlier. Beyond the electricity arches, the king saw two human silhouettes which didn’t resemble robots, but he had to pay attention at the last active MT lunging at him.


	37. Together Again

**BOOK 2: THE TALE OF THE CHOSEN KING**

**CHAPTER 25 – TOGETHER AGAIN**

The train car fell with a loud thump right before Gladio started crossing the gap underneath. It had fallen sideways and, entering through the rear door, the Shield and the retainer could climb their way to the side and stand on top of it.

“Going up,” Gladio said, taking Ignis’ hand to help him climb to the top.

“Is there a way forward?” Ignis asked as Gladio put the cane back into his hands.

The Shield peered down. There was another derailed car with its door open. It was clear which way Noct had gone.

“There’s a _way_ , but I don’t see us going _forward_ without facing off with the daemons.”

“But now Noct is facing them alone. There must be some way we can help him.”

“Perhaps _I_ could be of service,” said a voice from the overturned car beyond.

Both men tensed when they saw the chancellor casually strolling out of the car.

“What are you doing here?” said Gladio, a protective arm extended before Ignis.

“Why, I come bearing gifts,” Ardyn smiled. At a snap of his fingers, Gladio and Ignis had their weapons back into their hands.

“The hell?”

“See? Gifts! Now, I believe a _thank you_ is in order.”

“For what?” Gladio asked defiantly. “Another one of your stupid tricks?”

Ardyn raised his arms, speaking dramatically, as if they had hurt his feelings.

“Here I am, helping for a change, but I can see I’m not wanted.” And, with that, he bowed and went the way he had come.

“I’m loath to trust him,” said Ignis.

“Same… but at this point, we need all the help we can get.”

They willed their weapons away and climbed down from the car. Carefully, they followed the path they thought Noctis had taken towards the building ahead.

“I ought to have been more cautious,” Ignis lamented. “If anything were to happen to Noct, I…”

“Can’t move forward if you’re always looking backwards. Quit thinking about what you _could’ve_ done then and start thinking about what you _can_ do now.”

“You’re right,” the retainer sighed. “What’s done it’s done.”

There was a swarm of small daemons ahead that Gladio cleared with ease.

“So if we can conjure our weapons again,” the Shield reasoned, helping Ignis up the stairs. “Does that mean Noct can too?”

“I have the feeling the chancellor isn’t so generous.”

“How come?”

“He might have feigned friendship, but he’s proven a foe, before. We’d best be careful.”

They arrived at what looked like a warehouse to Gladio. He refrained from describing to Ignis the derelict state of the building, and guided his friend in silence through the debris. At times, Gladio had to make his companion remain behind each time he wanted to clear the path from the spawning daemons. It felt nice hacking them away and see them vanish in a puff of black smoke. He only wished he could do the same with Ardyn.

Suddenly Ignis asked if there was a transistor nearby. Not understanding what he meant, Gladio searched the nearby shelves to discover that, indeed, there was a functioning radio, but the volume was so low, Gladio had to stick his ear to the speaker to be able to listen at first. Tuning up to the only available radio station, both men could listen to the broadcast. A female voice spoke in an even tone, which contrasted with the content of the message:

_“This is the Imperial Security Bureau. A situation has arisen in several research sectors. All civilians must relocate to their designed refuge stations immediately. Failure to evacuate will result in incarceration or other appropriate disciplinary procedures. This emergency broadcast will repeat until the situation has been resolved. The Imperial Security Bureau thanks you for your cooperation.”_

“You think that _situation_ is us… or something else,” Gladio asked, turning the radio off.

“The latter, I presume. Whatever it is must be a matter of considerable scale to warrant such a warning. Keep your ears open. These broadcasts might help us understand what’s going on outside.”

On their way to the elevator, they crossed through an open space, a terrace, from where Gladio could see the city. Again, he didn’t bother describing anything to Ignis. Seeing all the warehouses and the monotonous pattern of identical housing buildings, the Shield had a feeling that Gralea hadn’t been a comfortable place to live, even without the daemon invasion.

The small elevator was a circular cubicle of rusted metal. As they ascended, Gladio smiled, remembering the Balouve Mines and how they teased Prompto because of his claustrophobia.

“It’s dead silent,” Ignis whispered when they arrived at the upper level.

“More like _undead_ silent,” Gladio pointed out. “Place is crawling with daemons.”

They followed the corridor until they stood before an open door. They stopped when they heard a voice through the announcement system.

_“Right this way, gentlemen.”_

Gladio took a step towards the door, which closed.

_“Honestly, are you even listening?”_

Cursing, the Shield stepped back. Ardyn directed them to a section of the corridor they had walked by.

“Hold up,” Gladio ordered Ignis, as the wall began moving to reveal a corridor beyond it. “What is it? Found some kinda secret passage.”

“Led here by our _guide_.”

“Long as it’s a step in the right direction, I’ll take it.”

The secret door gave them access to a wide room thrown in disarray. There were working stations and shelves pushed against the walls, but the floor was littered with debris and other objects. Gladio spotted another radio on one of the shelves and turned it on:

_“This is a status report from the Imperial Defense Force. The daemon outbreak stemming from several research facilities has been suppressed in most areas. Magitek infantry units have been deployed to remaining sectors. The situation is under control. For your safety, a temporary curfew is imposed on all city areas. Your cooperation is required to ensure the security of yourself and other civilians.”_

“They’ve got their hands full,” the Shield commented. “Bet they never thought they little pets would bust outta their cages.”

“I doubt even the daemons could simply escape from such a secure facility,” Ignis reasoned. “It’s more likely their _master_ set them free.”

Walking down the next corridor, they arrived at another room. It was infested with rogue MTs, which armors had fallen off, leaving the metal skeletons exposed. Gladio could only imagine how much Prompto would cower if he encountered these monstrosities, and how much he would protest about having to fight so much. Not for the first time, Gladio wished he could hear again his complains.

They followed another hallway, which this time ended at the feet of a flight of stairs. Climbing them, they entered a spacious control room. Except for the one with the access door, all others were covered with screens where they could see footage from the security cameras. At a glance, Gladio checked if any showed either Noctis or Prompto, but most of them were blinking in and out and the others only showed static.

“Hey, Iggy. Think we might’ve found the control room. Got lotsa… monitors and stuff.”

“Which may help us monitor the rest of the keep. Does anything look operable?”

Gladio walked Ignis to what appeared to be the main workstation.

“I’m more of a low-tech kinda guy, but I’ll see what I can do,” Gladio excused himself, trying to navigate through the computer files. “What have we here? Huh. Looks like they wiped everything.”

“All of it?”

“Yep.”

Gladio kept searching. Despite the advances on magitek technology, the interface was decades behind that of Insomnia’s computers.

“Wait… I’ve got something. There’s one surveillance tape they forgot to erase… almost like they wanted us to see it.”

“Then we’d best have a look. Whatever’s on that tape might help us locate Noct and Prompto.”

Gladio hit the enter key and all twelve screens above them went black. Then they all started playing the recording as one, big screen.

At first, it was all black, and a feeble, elderly voice was asking questions.

_“What of the Hydraean’s power? What of my precious ring?”_

An image came to focus. It was some sort of throne room. An elderly man, dressed in white and red sat there, rambling like a madman. Ravus Nox Fleuret stood in front of him, Regis’ sword in hand.

The image was sharper now, and Gladio could see some kind of black mist around the old man’s body. He described it all to Ignis, and the retainer thought he could recognize the Emperor in that account.

_“By the hand of the Oracle, they are with the King now… their rightful owner. And someday soon, he shall use them to purge our star of its scourge.”_

The man didn’t seem to be listening to Ravus.

 _“But the Crystal is mine…_ I _am the one True King!”_

 _“Nay, it is Noctis and none other.”_ A cloud of black mist formed behind Ravus, who turned around, gripping at the sword. Three daemons appeared, giant corpses dressed in rags and surrounded by will-o-wisps. _“Certainly not a puppet of the darkness and the daemons it has borne.”_

The Emperor snarled, and his voice became stronger.

 _“_ You _are the puppet… and you must die.”_

The daemons attacked Ravus, but he wielded Regis’ sword with mastery. However, the magic powers of the three daemons were too much for him and, despite being able to parry their attacks, one explosion sent him out of the throne room and into the platform it sat, overlooking an abyss. There was another explosion, and Ravus fell over the railing and into the void.

The screen faded to black and showed another image: Ravus had fallen to a lower level and tried getting to his feet. His wounds seemed serious as he limped his way into the catwalk connecting the platform to the main building, using Regis’ sword as support. Someone approached him with slow steps.

 _“At last you have arrived, Noctis,”_ Ravus said through labored breath. _“The gods have shown you their favor. As Blood of the Oracle, I present you your father’s glaive. Now go forth, my king. Shine your light unto the world.”_

His artificial arm presented the sword to Noctis, who gazed coldly at it. Just as Noctis extended his own hand, the king summoned a different sword and cut Ravus’ arm. The Lord of Tenebrae staggered back and fell, dead, to the floor.

Noctis took the sword with the arm still gripping at it and nailed it to the ground, next to Luna’s brother. Then he knelt at the Lord of Tenebrae’s side.

 _“Spare me your sycophancy,”_ the king spat; then he smirked. _“I’ve indulged your false heroism for far too long,”_ then his voice changed, and it was Ardyn’s voice which spoke through Noctis’ lips. _“You tried to save the world in my stead, but it wasn’t enough. The Crystal chose_ me _… not you.”_

The man who looked like Noctis got to his feet, and when he stood up it was Ardyn the one Gladio saw standing there and adjusting his hat. From his coat, the chancellor took some paper sheets and threw them over Ravus before walking away.

_“Rejection hurts, doesn’t it?”_

The recording ended there.

“Was that Noct?” asked Ignis in bewilderment.

“No. Just that scumbag chancellor posing as him.”

“It sounded like Ravus tried to return His Majesty’s sword.”

“Yeah. Guess he finally got over his grudge. Even called Noct _his king_. Let’s move. If that’s what he did to Ravus, there’s no telling what he’ll do to Noct.”

Ardyn had bought himself some time, which meant they had none to waste to access the upper levels.

There was an elevator on that room. Going up they reached a cargo bay, maybe the one which hosted the Crystal upon arriving. They searched for another elevator which would lead them up.

At the other side, they found a giant door, with an iron giant guarding it. Gladio found that this daemon was not as strong as he expected, and with a little help from Ignis, he felled it.

Beyond the door and across the catwalk they found the central elevator. Rogue MTs prowled along the way, but Gladio made short work of them. He helped Ignis into the lift and the two of them went to the upper levels.

“We ought to be close to the core of the Keep by now,” said Ignis as Gladio helped him out of the lift.

“And that’s probably where they’re keeping the Crystal.”

“And most likely where Noct is headed as we speak.”

Daemons ambushed them. If not for Ignis’ stack of potions, Gladio would have had a hard time.

The passage ahead had a single door to the left, which opened as they walked by. More rogue MTs; another hallway ahead; an intersection with a dead end at their left and stairs at their right. After the stairs and to the right, a control room.

“Hey, there it is,” said Gladio, looking at the surveillance screens.

“What is it?”

“The Crystal… right here on the screen.”

“Then we’re close,” Ignis said with urgency. “Do you see any sort of control panel?”

“Sure do.”

“If it’s anything like the Citadel, there should be a barrier barring access.”

“Then we un-bar it. You must tell me what to do.”

Gladio described the controls and the text on the screen to Ignis, and the retainer slowly gave the instructions of what he thought was the correct procedure. When Gladio finished, he looked up at the screen with expectation.

A few seconds passed until the red lasers barring the entrance flickered and faded.

A thud made Gladio turn around. There was a daemon behind them. It looked like a nightmarish mockery of a human, its exposed muscle glistening red under the artificial lights, its leathery wings and black talons extended to encompass the whole room.

“Thieves cannot escape the hand of justice!” it roared. “The Crystal is mine… Never shall I lose my grip! The Crystal, the Light, the power… All of it… Mine!”

It attacked with a strength Gladio didn’t expect. Ignis assistance was lifesaving this time. When it disappeared in a cloud of black mist, the two men stood there, waiting for it to reappear.

“I can’t hear it anymore,” said Ignis. “Is it dead?”

“Not yet…” Gladio answered, breathing heavily from the exertion. “Thing just disappeared. Ain’t never seen one that talked like that before.”

“Nor one so fixated on the Crystal.”

“I thought Aranea said the daemons were _afraid_ of the Crystal.”

“It might be like moths to a flame… or it may be one of the empire’s _alternative facts_.”

“Whichever it is, that monster’s still on the loose.”

“And we need to find it before it finds Noctis and Prompto.”

They opened the only door available, next to the control panels. A voice taunted them over the announcement system.

_“Oh dear. I can see the light fading from your friend’s eyes.”_

Gladio didn’t want to hear that voice, but Ardyn was opening the doors for them. Namely, the walls which revealed secret passages.

As they climbed the flight of stairs hidden behind a secret door, Ardyn’s voice gasped.

_“What’s this? I think he’s stopped breathing. Why don’t you come and see for yourself?”_

There were two doors along the next corridor, both closed, though the one at the far back opened as soon as they stepped on the hallway.

“If that son of a bitch even…” Gladio grumbled.

“Wait,” Ignis raised his hand. “Can’t you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

“Noct’s voice,” he said, walking ahead. “I heard it clear s day. This way… follow me!”

Gladio only hoped Ignis wasn’t losing his mind when he darted ahead into the next control room.

“Noct? Is that you?” Ignis yelled.

“Hey! Noct! Can you hear us?”

Gladio saw the room they had entered had a door at the far wall which opened to a hallway. A strange device, arcing with electric energy, was mounted on the threshold, slowly moving towards the center of the corridor, where he could distinguish a human figure fighting against MTs.

“Where are you?” Ignis kept calling.

“Noct’s in trouble!” Gladio warned.

“There ought to be a kill switch nearby… find it!”

“How do you know that?”

“I believe it’s the reason we were brought here.”

Sweeping the room with a glance, Gladio threw himself over the first thing that resembled a kill switch, pressing it. The electricity in the hallway died down and the door opened. Noctis crawled out of that space, white as a sheet and short of breath.

“That was close,” said Gladio.

“The hell’d you get here?” Noctis asked when he could catch his breath.

“You’re welcome?” Gladio smiled as he offered his hand.

“Thanks,” the king said, taking his Shield’s hand.

“After we were separated, we received _help_ … from the usual suspect,” Ignis explained.

“That bastard’s playing with us,” Gladio grunted. “But at least we’re together.”

“All but one of us,” Ignis reminded.

 _“Reunited with your retainers at last. How very touching,”_ Ardyn jeered at them. _“Must be a fine feeling, having friends. Look how happy you are! I pray you find your dear Prompto soon.”_

They went back the way Noctis had come. The doors the king had crossed before were closed shut, while others were open. At the end of a hallway, Noctis thought he could see something behind some cell bars.

They approached, their flashlights illuminating only part of the dark hallway. There was someone locked up there and bound to a device. A golden head slumped forward, and Noctis could recognize the t-shirt the prisoner wore.

Gladio forced the door open, and Noctis hurried to open the restrains. It was Gladio, however, the one to tear them open and free Prompto. The young man fell to his knees, gasping.

“Hey, you alright?” Gladio tried to get him to talk.

“Are you hurt?” asked Ignis. “Do you need help?”

“I’m fine,” Prompto stuttered. On trembling arms, he could push himself into a sitting position. “Thank you, Noct,” he gasped, smiling despite the bruises and the cuts on his face.

“No sweat,” Noctis tried his best to say it in a joking voice. It took everything he had to so, seeing his friend in such a state.

“Tell me,” Prompto asked all of a sudden, his smile faltering. “Were you worried about me?”

“Of course I was,” the king’s voice trembled ever so slightly. “What kind of question is that?”

Prompto chuckled nervously.

“Of course. That’s why you came, like I believed you would,” he stood up with some difficulty. “That’s why I told myself I couldn’t die. Not until I could see you and hear you tell me I’m not a fake… that I’m the real me.”

“I’m sorry,” Noctis started. But Prompto just smiled.

“Don’t be. Everything’s alright now.”

Ignis gave Prompto a potion to regain some strength, but no one said anything more. Once they caught their breath, the friends kept on their way to the strange platform Noctis had come from.

“Noct, do you hear that?” Ignis put a hand on the king’s shoulder.

“Hear what?”

“I’ve heard this sound before… on the train, just before your weapons failed you. It’s nearby, and it may hold the key to restoring your power.”

Ignis guided them to the room Noctis couldn’t open, the one at the center of the circular lift. A panel sat at its side, and the king had guessed some fingerprints would be necessary.

“Door’s locked,” Noctis sighed, patting the metal.

“It’s coming from within,” said Ignis. “Is there no way through?”

“There’s a way.”

They all looked at Prompto. He stood aside from them, paler than usual. Without another word, he approached the panel and put his right wrist against the reader. The red light turned green with a beep, and the door opened.

“So, MTs…” he said in a hoarse voice. “They’ve got those codeprints… just like I do.”

“Do they? Never looked,” Noctis joked, though he knew perfectly well what his friend was talking about.

“Yeah…” Prompto chewed on his lip, his eyes gazing at the floor. “So, as it turns out… I’m one of them. Not exactly something I could tell people growing up in Lucis. Still…” he blinked furiously as he looked up. “You guys are like… the only friends I’ve ever known. I just hope that things can stay the way they were.”

“Whatever,” Noctis waved his hand, trying to make light of the subject. “Who cares where you were born?”

“I don’t see you turning against us,” Ignis added. “Not now, or ever.”

“Thanks, guys,” Prompto said hoarsely. “Still… I can’t change where I came from. What I am.”

“Since when does where you come from matter to you?” Noctis smiled broadly.

Prompto’s eyes widened in surprise.

“You never once treated me as a prince,” Noctis laughed, punching him playfully on the shoulder.

“He’s got you there,” Gladio chuckled.

“Never so much as a _Highness_ ,” Ignis reminded him.

“We’re done here,” Noctis beckoned him. “C’mon, crown citizen.”

“You’re one of us, right?” Gladio slapped him in the back.

“Unless you’d rather not be,” Ignis joked when Prompto didn’t say a word.

The young man kept quiet because he knew that uttering a single word would make him burst into tears, so he just nodded and watched his friends walk into the room.

It had gone far better than he expected. He felt lighter, as he felt his life-long burden disappearing all of a sudden. He looked at his right wrist, and didn’t mind that his bracelet didn’t cover it completely.

Gladio said aloud that he recognized that chamber as the throne room. The emperor’s robes lain on his seat, but there was no sign of their owner. Tall computers lined up at each side of the room, and it was there where Noctis plunged his sword to the hilt. The machines sputtered and crackled before dying out, and the red light shining on top of the throne room went off.

“So… did it work?” Prompto wondered.

“With the device down and out, Noct’s power should be up and running.”

“Go on, try it,” Gladio encouraged him.

“Alright. Moment of truth.”

He extended his arm and called for a weapon. A telltale blue glow shone around his arm as his weapons materialized. Noctis smiled, willing it away.

Prompto clapped happily.

“We’re back, baby,” Gladio said.

“Let’s roll,” the king grinned.

Gladio and Ignis had discovered a way to the Crystal. It was full of daemons, but being together again made fighting much easier.

“I see you decided to rock the ring,” said Prompto all of a sudden, looking at Noctis’ hand.

“Had to. No weapons, no friends, no choice, really. Y’know, somebody here’s got to fight to rescue the Crystal… not to mention rescue all of your asses.”

“Spoken like a true king,” said Gladio, not without a hint of pride. “About time.”

“The ring represents a great burden, but you don’t bear it alone,” Ignis reminded the king.

“You can say that again,” Noctis smiled, looking at his friends. “Especially now that you all have your weapons back.

As the most important research facility in the empire, Zegnautus Keep needed constant manning, thus there were areas were the human staff and soldiers could rest, with bunk beds and other facilities. Once they were together, they decided to use one of those rooms to regroup and plan their next step.

Ignis decided to use one of the heaters to warm some tin food Gladio found in a cupboard. While the Shield and the retainer busied themselves, Noctis and Prompto sat on one of the beds, but not on the same side, so that they weren’t facing each other. Once the rush of the moment had worn out, Noctis felt he owed his friend an apology.

“Hey, I’m… sorry,” the king started timidly.

“For what?”

“For falling right into his trap… and for hurting you like that.”

“I know, right?” said Prompto, and then he mocked an overly dramatic tone. “How could you possibly do such a horrible thing… after everything we’ve been through!?” Then he chuckled and shook his head. “Nah, it’s okay. You’re not the only one who fell for it.”

“Once this is all over, I say we break down the borders… come together as one nation. I mean, what does it matter where you’re from anyway?”

“Y’know, I never thought I’d say this, but you sounded like a real king for a second,” said Prompto, turning around.

“Better late than never,” Noctis sighed, relieved to see his friend back to his old self. Then he smiled at him. “I’m gonna make this world a better place. You with me?”

“Uh-huh,” Prompto grinned, “ever at your side.”


	38. Redemption

**BOOK 2: THE TALE OF THE CHOSEN KING**

**CHAPTER 26 – REDEMPTION**

The four friends recounted what had happened on each side over their meager dinner. Prompto’s story was the shortest, for someone who had spent many days away, but the others didn’t push him to share his part of the adventure. They slept in turns and, after some hours, they continued their way.

The radio they found at the barracks kept updating about the situation in Gralea, which was bleaker by the hour: Civilians had nowhere to run anymore while the army was in shambles, and what little human forces still lived were a diminishing defense against the hordes of daemons and rogue MTs.

The corridors they traversed were at times blocked by access panels, which Prompto would open for them with his tattooed barcode. None said a thing the first time, but the gunslinger grinned at them, joking about how fortunate they should feel about having a walking key traveling with them.

Despite Gladio knowing the way to the Crystal chamber, they explored the whole area in search of any piece of information that might serve them. They also had the faint, unspoken hope of finding the control room from where Ardyn had been controlling the doors and the security system. However, daemons were the only ones waiting for them in the empty rooms.

In one of them, they were ambushed by a red daemon, the same talking beast which had attacked Gladio and Ignis, but retreated as soon as Gladio wounded it. Now it seemed bolder, and determined on killing Noctis, all while raving about the empire spanning all the lands and flourishing under the Crystal’s light.

The monster’s strength was out of the ordinary, as was its endurance. No matter how many times Gladio tried taunting the daemon, it wouldn’t cease to attack Noctis.

But such tenacity would be also its undoing. At one point, the monster pinned Noctis down to the ground, and both Gladio and Prompto used that opportunity to attack it.

But not even Gladio’s strength and Prompto’s sure aim slowed down the daemon. Ignis, despite his lost sight, approached Noctis while the monster was distracted with the other two to help the king to his feet.

As if happening in slow motion, Noctis saw with horror how the daemon turned around, quick as lightning, and lunged for Ignis’ back. He wanted to shove his retainer away from the monster, to warp-strike the daemon and be done with it, but he could only open his mouth and scream a warning. However, before could utter a single sound, Ignis spun around, daggers ready and crackling with magic energy.

Everything lay still for what seemed an eternity. The daemon twitched, claws still outstretched around Ignis and aimed at Noctis. The daggers’ points now protruded from the monster’s neck, it’s thick, black blood obscuring the metal’s pristine brilliance.

Ignis pushed the daemon away, which staggered backwards as black particles engulfed it. Noctis bathed in cold sweat when he saw the monstrous face of the daemon contorting, until the flesh formed the visage of an old, bearded man. But what horrified him the most was the sickly voice coming from the monster, claiming that he was to rise as the emperor of the world.

Gladio, normally unfazed, was paler than usual.

“That face,” the Shield frowned. “Wasn’t that the Emperor?”

“The voice definitely was,” Ignis said. “Another trick from our friend the Chancellor.”

“No.”

Gladio and Ignis turned towards Noctis, while Prompto’s eyes were fixed on the pool of miasma. The poor boy looked as if we was about to vomit.

Noctis found it a bit difficult to explain, especially since he had glossed over his ordeal through the laboratory when it had been his turn to recount what had happened, and had learned everything while he was running for his life. The technicalities still escaped him, but to sum everything up, he told them that the Scourge was nothing but an illness which transformed normal humans and animals into monsters.

“So,” he said to end his account. “ _That_ was Emperor Iedolas Aldercapt.”

Far from being horrified, Ignis showed bemusement instead.

“I wonder,” he said, scratching his chin. “Would the emperor want the Crystal to cure his infection?”

“We’ll never know,” said Gladio, approaching Prompto, whom he patted on the back. “You all right?” The gunslinger nodded, pursing his lips and closing his eyes. “Then let’s go.”

Following the map inside the control room, they reached the hangar, which they had to cross to access the central elevator to the Crystal.

After the numerous ambushes they had suffered, it seemed eerily quiet and empty. Opposite the door they had just crossed were the enormous doors leading to the central lift and, behind them and to the left, smaller lifts leading to the lower part of the hangar.

_“Your Majesty, your precious Crystal awaits you.”_

Ardyn’s purring through the speakers always harked bad news.

The hangar’s giant doors opened slowly.

_“To liven things up I thought I’d take you on a stroll down memory lane. Of course, memories decay with time.”_

The creature which hobbled into the hangar had been human once. Magitek technology, fed with daemonic essence, had taken root on the Lord of Tenebrae’s corpse and reanimated him. The scourge had regenerated his lost arm into a monstrous claw, also spreading the infection through the left side of Ravus’ body.

Black tendrils, born from the injured shoulder, extended through the chest and reached the head, where on its left side a curved horn had grown. His clothes were torn and blackened by the scourge growths, and they could see the tendrils piercing the flesh between the ribs, as the black mass over his heart pulsated in rhythm with that of a heart.

As he staggered closer, the four friends could see that the scourge had made the High Commander grow in size, so that now he stood above eight feet tall. Instead of his sword, now Ravus wielded a curved, barbed, black blade, which seemed made from miasma.

The shuffling of heavy feet was the only sound in the hangar, until the creature opened his lips, and black ooze poured out as it rasped: “Kill me… end it…”

It was said that the scourge not only changed the body, but also the mind, so that when the infection was complete what was left was a mindless monster, with no memory of any former life. However, those with a strong enough will could still cling to bits of memories, although they could not defeat the illness. It had happened with the emperor, who dreamed of a prosperous empire under his rule, and it had happened with Ravus, who still retained enough humanity to plead for a swift end.

Nevertheless, the scourge was always more powerful than any human mind and, not sooner those words had been uttered, Ravus roared, his voice suddenly distorted as the scourge finally overtook him.

“Is that… Ravus?” Gladio asked.

“Or… what’s left of him,” Prompto said, eyes wide with horror and disgust.

However, the gunslinger readied his guns as quickly as his companions summoned their own weapons.

Luna’s brother lunged forwards, with inhuman speed. The four friends, taken by surprise, could do nothing but dodge the deadly arc the sword traced.

The Lord of Tenebrae had been in life an expert swordsman. His mastery was such that even the most important families in Niflheim reluctantly admitted that the young lord’s ability was to be admired. Now that the scourge had overtaken his body, Ravus joined technique with the raw power that the curse had bestowed upon him.

Finding an opening was nearly impossible and, the only time Ravus held his blade over his head, Gladio shouted a warning to his companions to get away from the daemon. Not a moment too soon, Noctis warped out of reach, but he saw how, at the last moment, Ravus changed his aim and lowered the sword while facing Prompto. A shockwave came out of the blade, in the shape of a vertical arc which ran directly towards the young man. However, of the four companions, the gunslinger’s reflexes were the quickest, and he rolled away from the course of the attack. Nevertheless, Prompto sensed a tug on his clothes and, when he looked at the shirt he wore tied to his waist, half the cloth had been cut and seared. Looking at the floor, he saw with a shiver how deeply the shockwave had cut through the concrete. One hit and any of them would be dead.

Noctis warp-struck Ravus at that moment, but the king’s blows didn’t seem to cause much harm. The daemon jumped away from the assault, and prepared another attack. Noctis warped again in pursuit, but Ravus had gained momentum and jumped again, this time towards Gladio. The Shield withstood the brutal onrush for some seconds, enough for Noctis to strike once again. Ravus dodged the king’s attack, and lunged, bringing his sword down. The king parried and tried to counter-attack, but Luna’s brother kicked him, sending him at a distance.

His vision blurred for some seconds. Noctis shook his head, trying to get to his feet. He looked around, and saw that Ravus had cornered Ignis and was about to attack him. The king warp-struck Ravus once again, whose guard was completely down. On his rush, he hadn’t noticed that both Gladio and Prompto had also rushed in to help their friend, and Ravus saw himself under a combined attack of swords, daggers and guns.

The High Commander faltered and fell to his knees, something that Noctis used to run the monster through with Regis’ sword. Ravus roared, out of pain and rage as the scourge kept regenerating his wounds.

Against what the king expected, Ravus got on his feet after being stabbed, a whirlwind of miasma surrounding him. The light of the magitek energy shone with a bluish hue through the regenerated arm and the infected flesh.

The daemon roared again, and a magic explosion created a shockwave which send them all tumbling backwards. While he was on the ground, Noctis saw Ravus, still shrouded in dark power, nailed his blade into the ground at his feet.

Just as the dark metal pierced the concrete, Noctis felt a surge of magic just under him. Rolling away just in time, he saw a giant, black tendril shooting upwards on the spot the king had been mere seconds before.

Like with the emperor, Ravus’ fixation with Noctis was his undoing. At the same time that the black tendril failed to hit Noctis, Gladio brought his greatsword with both hands over his head, making it fall like a hammer on the daemon’s back. The previous outburst had weakened Ravus, and he fell again on his knees. Noctis warp-struck as his three friends attacked with everything they had.

A could of dark miasma surrounded the High Commander again, and the four companions jumped out of its reach. The magic shockwave didn’t affect them this time, but Ravus now lunged at Gladio, slashing with his sword and with the black tendrils which now grew out of his left hand.

Despite his show of power, Ravus had grown weaker, and Gladio had less trouble parrying his attacks, despite the Shield’s own tiredness. Prompto shoot at the tentacles which threatened to ensnare Gladio, cutting them; Ignis, unable to see or sense neither his friends nor their enemy, shouted: “The Ring! Use it!”

Noctis then remembered. Of course! But, could it serve against someone as powerful as Ravus?

The king concentrated his energy on his hand and directed it at the dark form the creature that had been once Luna’s brother. A white light shone on the king’s hand and above Ravus, whose dark body suddenly started to contort in pain as he turned around towards the source of holy magic.

Neither Gladio nor Prompto had ceased on their attacks and, when Noctis felt his own magic power draining, he lowered his hand and warp-struck Ravus for the last time.

Regis’ sword pierced Ravus’ body through the heart. Noctis was forced to look into Luna’s brother’s face, ravaged and disfigured by the scourge. Black ooze poured from his mouth, but his facial features suddenly relaxed, as if during his last moments he could regain what little humanity the curse had left in him.

“Curse… you… Ardyn…” Ravus rasped, before collapsing on the ground.

The Lord of Tenebrae was dead.

“A sorry end for the High Commander,” said Gladio after a long silence. “Or for anyone. He was a man with hopes and dreams.”

“It’s horrible…” Prompto murmured.

“What kind of fiend makes daemons of men?” Ignis wondered.

But that question was a rhetorical one, Noctis thought. Ravus, whose body was now being slowly engulfed in a cloud of dark particles, died cursing Ardyn. Somehow, the chancellor had played an important part on what had happened to Luna’s brother. Of all the endings, this was the worst the king could think for him.

The black cloud thickened and instant, and then dissolved, leaving nothing behind. Noctis made a point to build a memorial for Ravus, now that he couldn’t have a proper burial.

“Look alive!” Gladio yelled all of a sudden. “Company!”

Daemons spawned all around them, cutting every exit, and the giant doors of the hangar were closed shut.

With barely time to recover themselves, the four friends were thrust into battle once again. Strong daemons like the giant spiders were a problem, but it was the swarm of lesser critters what could pose a real problem for them. And, as time went by, they had the sinking realization that, no matter how many they destroyed, more kept coming.

“Noct!” the king heard Ignis shout to him. “You must go alone!”

“What?”

“If you can obtain the Crystal’s power, we may yet be able to turn the tide. Elsewise, we are all like to perish here.”

“Iggy’s right,” said Gladio, hacking through a horde of goblins. “It’s our only chance.”

“But what about you?”

“We’ll manage somehow!” said Prompto, in a display of uncharacteristic bravery before a naga. “Just get moving!”

Ardyn’s voice could be heard again through the speakers.

_“You could still get to the Crystal… if you went on your own. Your friends will have to stay behind.”_

The hangar doors were closed shut, but the small lift to the lower part opened as an invitation.

Noctis closed his eyes, as the last image he caught of his friends was of them fighting against the daemons.

He took the lift to the lower part and kept running, dodging daemons and not knowing exactly where he was going. He only knew he had to follow the doors that opened.

“Don’t die on me,” he prayed aloud, the image of his friends still flashing before him.

The path he followed led to the central elevator, after all. Ardyn kept guiding and taunting him. Ever since he had arrived at the Keep, Noctis had successfully avoided Ardyn’s taunts provoking him. The last musings from the Chancellor, as the central elevator slowly took the king to the Crystal, made Noctis clench his fists.

_“Do you suppose your dear friends are still alive? Those who died for you… do you ever wonder what went through their minds? Can you even recall their final words?”_

That was the taunt that made Noctis almost cave in. No matter how much he tried putting it at the back of his mind, what kept him awake at night since the destruction of Accordo was seeing the faces of those who had died for him, starting with his father, and ending with Luna. They had all fought for the future of the world while Noctis was kept blissfully ignorant of everything happening around him. No more. His friends wouldn’t perish as well.

“I’ll come back for you all,” he murmured through gritted teeth. “I swear.”

The elevator doors opened, and Noctis saw a long catwalk leading to a strange, giant sphere with a single, small aperture: The Crystal chamber. The insulation from the thick walls prevented the radiation from the Crystal to seep into the Keep and ruin all the experiments in the labs, or destroy all the MTs patrolling the complex.

Noctis ran as fast as he could along the catwalk and into the chamber until he could see the Crystal: A giant blue geode, bugger than a man, and held in place with chains nailed to the chamber walls.

Standing in front of it, he extended his arm and prayed.

“Please… Help me stop the daemons,” he said.

He expected the Ring to shine again, or to hear some voice, or to seem some sort of energy being transferred to his body, like when he acquired the power of the Astrals. Instead, tendrils of light emerged from the Crystal, enveloping him. He felt power, but not inside him. The Crystal was pulling him _inside of it_.

He struggled in desperation. It wasn’t supposed to happen that way!

“Unharmed by the Light,” a voice said behind him. “The Chosen King, indeed.”

Noctis turned his head as he tried to yank his body free from the Crystal. Ardyn slowly strode along the catwalk towards him.

“Allow me to regale you with a tale,” the man said as he smiled. “In an age long past, an incurable scourge ravaged mankind. A tiny menace that twisted men into monsters, the likes of which you’ve seen. In Lucis lived a savior that could cure the afflicted. His body would come to host myriads daemons, that countless lives be spared. But a jealous king, one not yet chosen by the Crystal, ostracized and demonized this healer of the people, making a true monster out of him. I gave you my name earlier, but you should know that it was not the name given to me at birth.

“Ardyn Lucis Caelum is my proper name. You’ll never guess whose name Izunia was.”

Ardyn made a pause, enjoying the look of shock in Noctis’ face as the king tried, in vain, to free himself from the Crystal.

“Noct, killing you as a mortal will bring me scant satisfaction,” Ardyn purred. “Claim the Crystal’s power. Arise as its champion. Only once the Crystal and King are no more… can I know redemption.”

Noctis felt himself almost entirely engulfed by the Crystal. His sight was blurring, and he let out a roar or rage, as the last thing he saw was Ardyn’s smug smirk.

“Come back soon,” the man said merrily as the last lock of dark hair disappeared in the Crystal’s light. “I shall keep your friends company until you are ready.”

Noctis couldn’t see Ardyn laughing. Neither could he see his friends arriving at the chamber, battered but unscathed.

They found Ardyn alone and, thinking the worst, they unleashed their rage upon him. Gladio slashed him across the face with his sword, and Prompto shot him point-blank on the back. The Chancellor fell heavily onto the metal floor, his black fedora rolling some paces away.

But as soon as his body hit the floor, the Chancellor got to his feet, dusting his clothes with indifference. He took his hat as he walked away, without ever missing a beat, leaving the three friends behind, unharmed and bewildered. It wouldn’t be any fun to torture them if Noctis wasn’t there to watch.

Had Ignis been able to see, he would have been witness to Ardyn’s true form: His skin was pale as a corpse, and black miasma poured from his eyes and mouth. His eyes had a black sclera, and his irises were bright gold.

Ardyn had gone away, his mocking words of goodbye still resonating in the chamber.


	39. World of Ruin

**BOOK 2: THE TALE OF THE CHOSEN KING  
**

**CHAPTER 27 –** **WORLD OF RUIN**

His body drifted, weightless, through the void.

The last image he had was that of Ardyn gloating at him as the Crystal absorbed him. All had been a trap, and he had walked right into it. How was he supposed to stop him if he was inside the Crystal?

**Gather strength, O Chosen.**

A voice resonated trough the ether. It was powerful enough to rattle Noctis’ very being.

He opened his eyes. A blue expanse, as if someone had mixed the sky and the ocean, surrounded him.

A gigantic form appeared in front of him, breaking Noctis’ slow descend by holding him on its hand. What Noctis could see was an armored, humanoid figure of azure and gold: The helm was fashioned like a dragon opening its maw, and many swords floated behind the figure as if it were wings. Under the lowered visor, Noctis thought he could see human, blue eyes.

**The fate of this world falls to the King of Kings, His Providence consecrated in the divine Light of the Crystal. So it is ordained… the revelation of Bahamut.**

“Wha… What is this place?” he asked.

**The heart of the Crystal, wherein lies the soul of the star, and it is in this place that the King will gain the power to fulfill his calling.**

“Where are my friends?”

**They stand against the darkness and abide in hope, sustained by faith unfaltering that they King shall arise and bring deliverance. By the covenants awakened, the Six have seen the coming of the prophesied hour, a time when the Crystal shall have shed the entirety of its Light unto the ring. Only then, once the sacred ring is replete, can the True King complete his ascension. And only by the True King’s hand can the immortal Accursed be banished and the Light restored to this world.**

The Accursed? Would he mean Ardyn?

“Who is _the Accursed_?”

**A man cursed with life eternal, whose immortality stems from the selfsame scourge that wrought the daemons. One so impure of body and soul was deemed unworthy of the Crystal’s Light, and forbidden to ascend. His mind twisted by spite and bent on revenge, the Usurper came to bring darkness down upon our world. Only the True King, chose by the Crystal and guarded by his forebears, can end the Accursed’s madness.**

Right. That much he could have guessed, but there were still things he didn’t understand. Why didn’t he listen when his father or Luna explained the Prophecy to him?

“What is this _Providence_ you speak about?”

**It is the sole means to ending the immortal Accursed. A power greater than even that of the Six, purifying all by the Light of the Crystal and the glaives of rulers past. Only at the throne can the Chosen receive it, and only at the cost of a life: his own.**

His own life. No one had ever told him anything…

However…

In a moment, several pieces fell into place: His father, thinking himself alone, crying silently as he gazed at the murals on their private chambers, the ones picturing the legend of the Chosen One; Luna growing sad each time she recounted how the Chosen One would deliver the world from darkness…

But, why they never told him anything? Luna he could understand, since they were still too young but, what about his father? Why did he keep him in the dark?

As if sensing Noctis’ inner turmoil, Bahamut spoke again.

**The King of Kings shall be granted the power to banish the darkness, but the blood price must be paid. To cast out the Usurper and usher in dawn’s light will cost the life of the Chosen.**

Noctis didn’t want to die. He still had his friends and a whole world to rebuild after that! There had to be another way! His mind scrambled to find any way he could say it but, somehow, his willpower failed him.

A vision of his father’s throne appeared before him, with the thirteen weapons and the Kings of Yore who wielded them around it…

**Many sacrificed all for the King; so must the King sacrifice himself for all.**

Bahamut removed the hand which supported Noctis, and the king felt falling again.

**Now enter into Reflection, that the Light of Providence shine within.**

His vision blurred as Bahamut disappeared from his view. In that strange space he couldn’t tell far from near as his body drifted away.

He was scared and confused. All his life he thought he would get the Chosen’s power through the Ring and fight directly against the daemons. But now Bahamut revealed to him that he had to serve as a sacrifice, and in which manner.

In that place time had no meaning, and his mind showed him all the memories he had treasured along the years: Luna, with her white dress and her bright smile, dancing among the sylleblossoms in the days Noctis had visited her; him meeting Prompto; training with Gladio; Ignis, always so sharp-minded and serene. Noctis also saw all the people he had left behind: Iris, Talcott, Cor, even Aranea and his men… all those who had helped him and his friends in any way, and who were now trying to salvage what remained of the world, until the Chosen One was powerful enough.

He also remembered his father, saying goodbye with a smile, despite knowing that it would be the last time they would see each other. He remembered Luna, crying for a time together that they would never have, and Ravus, who had lost so much more than Noctis, who in the end had a group of brothers to accompany him. And yet, the Lord of Tenebrae only wanted to see his sister smile.

There was no other way. Many had sacrificed their lives for Lucis and for him, like good old Jester, and so many other nameless ones.

He would have wanted to see the new world, to help reconstructing it with his friends.

Noctis thought about them: Prompto, whose unlikely origins Noctis didn’t care about, and the only person outside the Citadel who truly looked at him as a human being instead of the Crown Prince; Gladio, whose stern guidance helped him overcome his weaknesses, and Ignis, who guarded him ever since he was a small child, and who sacrificed something as precious to him as his sight for Noctis’ well-being.

The gods asked that he gave his life for those who would have given theirs without a second thought. It was a fate that not even the Six could fight against. Perhaps there was a higher power they had to answer to, and they were as much as slaves as humans were. Perhaps not even Ardyn was free from those chains either.

He felt the energy flooding his system. It was a steady pulse which grew, very slowly, inside him. The Ring would be his guidance and the agent of his power.

**The Light waxes full. Go forth to the kingdom, where the Usurper awaits. Reclaim the throne, and fulfill the calling of the True King.**

The sense of weightlessness ceased. He found himself sitting on a hard surface. All around him felt damp and cold. Opening his eyes, he saw he was inside a holding cell, underground. His face itched and his overgrown hair fell over his eyes.

He heard a dog barking outside. Following the sound, he saw Umbra waiting for him at the entrance of the cave. It had a note on its mouth, which read:

_Be waiting for you at Hammerhead._

He smiled, recognizing Prompto’s handwriting. With a signal, Umbra barked happily and trotter ahead of him.

Until that moment, he hadn’t noticed the landscape around him.

He stood upon a barren land. All around him, giant staves were stuck on the ground, creating a circular barrier around the prison’s door. Behind him, the mountains rose in two strange formations resembling either mirroring waves or wings. He was in Angelgard, the ancient island where the gods gathered and bestowed their power to mortals in ancient times.

It was nighttime and the moon shone in the sky. Even so, its brilliance wasn’t enough for him to see, and not even his flashlight could fully penetrate the darkness. Following Umbra, he came to see the Royal Vessel moored at the coast, and several humanoid forms moving near it. He slowed his pace, suddenly wary of those figures, although Umbra ran towards them without a second thought.

The king let go of a sigh of relief when he saw the figures welcoming the dog, and one of them playing with the animal.

Coming closer, he distinguished the silver emblems of the Kingsglaive. Five of them where gathered by the docks, and all turned their heads to him when they heard his footsteps.

“Your Majesty!” shouted one, quickly bending his knee. The others followed suit.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” the man continued, head bowed.

Noctis observed them. They were battered and exhausted, but still standing. The first one who had saluted him looked familiar. His mind rushed to remember the name of the stout Glaive who had brought dire news from Insomnia, so long ago.

“Libertus,” Noctis said at last.

The man’s weary face broke in a wide smile, his blue eyes bright with joy as he got to his feet, along with his companions.

“You… did all this for me?” Noctis asked. Now that he could observe them, he could see that they had stood guard, even when some of them still wore bandages, darkened with dried blood.

“All this for the King of Kings,” said a voice behind him. Gentiana walked around him to stand at Libertus’ side. “Let not their sacrifices go in vain. He must make haste for the Seat of the Stone and ascend as its rightful heir.”

She gestured towards the Royal Vessel, and all the Glaive stepped back to let him pass. Noctis bowed at them and walked towards the boat.

“Our paths shall cross again,” said Gentiana.

“Thanks. I hope they do.”

**xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx**

Setting sail to Galdin Quay, it was as if a dense fog had settled in, and the waters weren’t as calm as he remembered them. Hadn’t it been for the Vessel’s autopilot and compass, he would have lost his way, for the Quay was dark and with no signs of life.

Landing on the pier, Noctis saw a horde of goblins coming for him. They were stronger and more vicious than he could remember. Gritting his teeth, he met them with his sword, desperately praying that the poor souls transformed into daemons could ever forgive him.

The restaurant looked nearly dilapidated. Overturned chairs and smashed tables littered the place, and here and there Noctis could see pieces of clothing strewn around, as if the owners had vanished, leaving them behind. He remembered the tunic at the throne room in Gralea, and the uniforms left behind at the laboratories, and knew that the people at the resort had been turned into daemons.

Warping his way out of the derelict restaurant to avoid the daemons, he ran all the way through the pier to the coast. There the situation wasn’t better: the small souvenir shop was demolished, and many giant daemons lurked along the beach. He dodged their attacks and ran towards the road, where he was assaulted by a daemon inhabiting the walls of the rocky archway the road crossed under. Umbra guided him to the crossroads and sat down, expectantly.

Noctis heart sank when he saw the countryside around the road: the thick fog didn’t let him see, not even with his flashlight, but he could distinguish the vague silhouettes of liches and elemental bombs prowling about. Humans had been either turned, killed, or chased away. How much time had passed? By the length of his hair it couldn’t have been more than a few months, at much. Did it take so little for Ardyn to destroy the world?

Then a thought made him bathe in cold sweat: What had happened to his friends? Then his mind raced, telling himself that, despite the state of the world, they surely survived. Prompto at least.

An approaching light source interrupted his dark musings. Looking to his left and squinting, he distinguished a pair of lights coming down the road towards him: it was a truck. Umbra barked happily, and the truck sounded its horn. The lights where the same as the ones Cindy sent them to fetch from those sewers, years ago. She wanted to copy their technology so cars could travel during the night without being assaulted by daemons. It looked like she had been successful.

The truck stopped, and its young driver stuck his head out of the door’s window when Noctis approached.

“Uh…” the young man started. He must have been on his early twenties. He wore a Hammerhead cap and what Noctis recognized as the Meldacio League uniform.

“Yeah?”

“It’s me, Talcott. My grandpa served the Amicitia family?”

Noctis felt the truck swaying before him for a second. Talcott was twelve the last time Noctis saw him at Cape Caem! How much time had gone by!

“Talcott!?”

“Yeah,” the young man smiled, happy that Noctis had recognized him.

“No way,” Noctis gasped.

“Yes way. Welcome back, Your Majesty.”

Talcott opened the door for him and Umbra. Noctis saw that the boy had kept the cactuar figurines Noctis and his friends had hunted around the world for him, and now displayed them on top of the dashboard.

The first thing the boy did was calling his superior. He just called him that, but Noctis had a hunch who might he be.

“Yes, sir, that’s right. Hm? Just a second,” he handed the phone to Noctis. “Said he wants to have a word with you.”

“He can have it in person,” Noctis smiled.

“He said you can have it in person. Okay. We should be there shortly, sir.”

Talcott resumed his way to Hammerhead. He had grown up to a fine young man, but still retained his bright disposition.

“Wow. I can’t tell you how good it is to see you again,” the young man said.

“Yeah. You sure look different, though.”

“You think so? Guess I’ve grown some these ten years.”

“Ten years?” Noctis did his best to keep his voice from faltering.

“The guys must be pinching themselves right now,” Talcott chuckled.

“Where are they anyway?”

“Lestallum, more often than not, but they take a lot of trips to Hammerhead.”

“For…?”

“For Miss Cindy… y’know, back at the garage. She’s a tough one, but when she needs a little extra muscle out on the road, she gives ‘em a call. Speaking of which, the guys said they’re near Hammerhead right now, so we’ll be meeting them there.”

The land alongside the road was now barren and teeming with daemons. Where there had been vegetation and life, now miasma pooled on the ground. Dark particles floated before the truck’s lights like falling ash.

“Y’know, ever since you disappeared, Your Majesty, it’s been nothing but nighttime nonstop. Lestallum still has light… thanks to the power plant… so just about everyone’s taken refuge there.”

“ _Only_ there?”

“Everywhere else’s been abandoned. Daemons moved in, forcing the people to move out. People still swing by the garage at Hammerhead from time to time, but it usually isn’t for repairs. These days it’s less of a service station and more of a _slayer station_ … a base for daemon-hunting. The garage’s still open, thought… one of the few places that is.”

“So, um…” Noctis doubted, almost fearing to know the answer. “Cid. Is he still alive and kicking?”

“He’s kicking alright,” Talcott chuckled. “Just not as hard as before. He hasn’t really been himself lately. At least, not since he moved out to Lestallum. Someone suggested he move the garage there, too… but old man Cid wasn’t having it. He called it _a big, fat chocobo turd of an idea._ Said it just wouldn’t be the same anywhere else.”

“That sound like Cid alright,” Noctis smiled, remembering the old man.

They reached a crossroads where a restaurant and a motel stood once, to find ruins crawling with monsters. Noctis did his best to ignore how a dog-like daemon played with what remained of a piece of clothing.

“Miss Cindy said she didn’t mind either way, so the garage will probably stay put for a while. And without any tinkering to do, Ignis’ gourmet seafood is about all Cid has left to look forward to.”

“With all the daemons prowling around, more folk were getting hurt… or worse. So Iris talked the marshal into taking out the daemons themselves. _Iris the Daemon Slayer_ , they call her. Gladio and the others, they lend ‘em a hand whenever they can.”

“Really?” Noctis interrupted.

“Really, Your Majesty,” the young man chuckled. “It took her a while to convince the marshal, but she did. She’s quite the heroine, nowadays.”

“Prompto spend most of his time hunting around Hammerhead. He tries to impress Miss Cindy… but she’s already married to her work.”

“And Ignis?” Noctis asked cautiously. He was already grateful to know that he was alive, but there was something else which worried him.

“He hunts, too. We tried to stop him, but he wouldn’t listen. He said, if anything, _he’s_ more used to the darkness than we are.”

“Never got his vision back…” his heart sank.

“I’m afraid not. But, that being said, he gets by pretty well on his own. Gladio and Prompto usually hunt on their own as well. It isn’t often you see the three of them together nowadays. They still work as a team every once in a while, but each has his own set of tasks to keep him busy.”

“Is that so?” Noctis whispered, a bit downhearted.

The lights of Hammerhead could be seen ahead.

“We’ve arrived, Your Majesty. Everyone’ll be so happy to see you.”

They had built a fence around the station, and armored guards stood at the gates. Supply trucks unloaded their goods into the former restaurant, and Noctis could see three familiar figures inside that building.

Stepping out of the truck, he saw them coming out to greet him.

His friends had all grown older, but it was barely noticeable until one looked closely: Gladio’s beard was thicker, and he had let his hair grow, gathering the front bangs on a ponytail; Prompto now sported a goatee, and Ignis now styled his hair on a toupee, aside from wearing different glasses which covered better his eyes and scars.

“Hey,” he saluted them.

“ _Hey_? That’s all you have to say for yourself… after all this time?” Gladio scolded him, though he playfully shoved at him.

“Noct, it’s you!” Prompto exclaimed, patting his back. “It’s really you!”

“Is it?” Noctis joked. “I hadn’t realized.”

“Well, well,” said Ignis, always calm and composed, though he couldn’t help smiling. “You kept us waiting.”

“Not like I wanted to,” Noctis said, putting his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “We’ve got catching up to do.”

“Let’s head inside.”

The Hunters had turned the restaurant into a mess hall and a warehouse of sorts. There they sat down and gave Noctis a summary of the last ten years.

When he disappeared, the darkness was soon to follow. Hunters and Glaive, as the Long Night approached, joined forces to protect the people and Lestallum, humanity’s last stronghold. Thanks to Lunafreya’s prayers before she was slain, the power of the ancient kings had been unleashed, and the Glaive could use magic again.

Former imperial soldiers also joined them, including Aranea and his men who, in time, became prominent figures and each one would come to lead their own small army.

Niflheim had fallen apart, after the death of both the emperor and the high commander, and their territory conquered by daemons and rogue MTs. Accordo had suffered a similar fate, also being overrun with daemons, forcing people to flee into Lestallum.

It was said that Bahamut himself tested those Glaive’s worthiness after their transgressions at the signing of peace. Satisfied, the Astral god forgave their betrayal and tasked a handful of them with the protection of Angelgard, along with Gentiana, sending the rest to protect other areas of the world. Those were the men and women who greeted Noctis when he came out from that cave in Angelgard.

Eventually, as Talcott had told him, as the weeks became years and the darkness deepened, so did the daemons become stronger, and each post and small settlement the Glaive had conquered was overrun by the monsters. The sky turned red and giant daemons began circling the skies as the world plunged into darkness.

The Scourge, as the empire had discovered, was an illness for which there was no cure other than death once the infection mutated the victim. After Luna’s passing, the plague got out of control, and the miasma the daemons released became, little by little, so abundant in the atmosphere it blocked the sun, effectively creating an eternal night.

The once secure havens also lost their sacred power with time and, with the deepening darkness, the growing strength of the daemons, and the dwindling number of secure shelter, the humans were slowly but surely pushed back, until Lestallum remained as the only secure place, and Hammerhead as the spear point on the way to Insomnia.

Noctis listened silently to everything they had to say, including their investigations about the Scourge, and Talcott and Ignis’ findings on old royal tombs. They had come across the name _Ardyn_ on scriptures from the old gods: He had been hailed as a savior who could cure the Scourge, only to be branded a daemon himself.

So what he said was true, after all.

The marshal had taken several volunteers with him and headed to Insomnia, to prepare for Noctis’ arrival. He and Gladio had agreed on a rendezvous point where Cor would be waiting for them.

Prompto, all of a sudden, got up from his seat.

“Hey, I know you just woke up,” he told Noctis. “But it’s pretty late here, almost dinner time.”

Ignis chuckled.

“I supposed the caravan’s kitchen is still usable?”

The gunslinger blushed, scratching his head.

“Well…”

“Blondie here has been keepin’ it clean and ready,” Gladio grinned.

Noctis’ eyes widened.

“For ten years?”

“No! Of course not! Just… this last month… But you don’t have any idea of how dirty it was after ten years! I almost scrubbed my fingers to the bone!”

The King chuckled. It felt good being among friends once more.

“All right,” he said, standing up. “It would be a shame not using it after all that effort.”

They went to the caravan and found it in pristine condition. The materials were worn out, but it felt as comfortable as Noctis remembered after Prompto had restored it.

Ignis improvised a quick dinner, and the four friends sat again outside the caravan to chat and interchange stories. His three friends filled him up with everything they had been doing during the King’s absence.

Prompto teased Gladio about that girlfriend he allegedly had. The Shield recounted how they had met, and the reasons why he hadn’t formally introduced her yet.

“So yeah, no wedding just yet,” he concluded.

“No wedding _ever_ ,” Prompto protested.

“Go figure,” Noctis said, hiding his grin behind a cup of coffee.

“Hey, don’t hate me.”

“ _Hate the game_. Yeah, yeah,” Prompto waved his hand dismissively.

“So we can’t expect a formal introduction for some while, then,” Ignis mused.

“Yeah. At least not ‘til all of this is over. Can’t in good conscience leave a girl to worry while I rush headlong into danger.”

“Right,” Noctis didn’t sound very convinced.

“Gee,” said Prompto, putting his hands behind his head. “You oughta teach a master class in romance.”

“Or acting,” Ignis commented.

“No acting here. I keep it real with the ladies.”

“Well, you sure changed,” said Noctis. “From just flirting to thinking about marriage.”

“We all changed,” said Ignis. “Prompto’s even capable of hunting alone these days. He really has come a long way.”

The gunslinger chuckled, embarrassed.

“Had to become a functioning adult sooner or later.”

“Doesn’t feel like you’ve changed though,” said Noctis.

“Not nearly as much as he claims,” Gladio grinned broadly.

“You gonna spoil my moment?”

“What’s there to spoil?”

“Y’know,” said Noctis, smiling softly. “Even after all this time, you guys haven’t changed a bit.”

“Not as individuals, perhaps,” said Ignis. “But we no longer need to ask one another for help in times of need. We’ve reached the point where that sort of synergy is second nature.”

“Yeah,” Prompto laughed. “And it only took us then years to get here.”

“So Ignis,” Noctis said. “You’re really cooking like you used to?”

“More or less. I can manage with far less help than I required before.”

“Y’know,” said Prompto. “It’s okay to ask for help. You don’t need to prove anything to us.”

“Probably more about proving it to himself,” Gladio said. “I say we leave him to it.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s how he got so good. Even better than before, if you can believe it.”

“Perhaps I’ve developed a culinary sixth sense.”

“Hey Iggy,” said Gladio. “You oughta follow Weskham’s example, open up a restaurant.”

“I’ll give the matter some thought… assuming such demand still exists in a post-apocalyptic world.”

Noctis laughed with the rest of them, for some moments forgetting what remained ahead of him, and what he had left behind.


	40. Homecoming

**BOOK 2: THE TALE OF THE CHOSEN KING**

**CHAPTER 28 – HOMECOMING**

The next morning they were to travel to Insomnia. Now that the city had become the source of all the daemons, the surrounding lands were the most dangerous in the continent. Talcott would drive them to a Meldacio outpost just outside the city. Noctis was about to protest, but Gladio assured him that the young man was a fully-fledged Hunter.

“Well, fellas,” said Gladio, stretching his arms. “We’re homeward bound at last. Time to suit up.”

“Finally get to rock these threads,” Prompto added with enthusiasm.

“Wear them with pride,” Ignis, said, taking some black garments out from a box and distributing them.

Noctis saw with surprise that the clothes were Crownsguard uniforms for his friends, but they had sewn for him an attire just like the one his father wore. Gladio informed him, not without pride, that Iris had tailored Noctis’ clothes from scratch.

Finally discarding his filthy, tattered fatigues, Noctis looked at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, trying to comb his hair. Then he stopped readjusting the pauldrons and the jacket. With a shorter hair he wouldn’t look much different from what the hazy memories he had from his father, before the Ring sapped his life away and his head was crowned with white much earlier than what would have been natural.

“It fits,” he murmured, smiling at his reflection.

The Hunters and the guards around the perimeter waved at them as they made their exit. Talcott drove Cindy’s old truck while the four friends sat at the back with Umbra, who never left Noctis’ side.

The King looked behind one more time when they were at some distance: Hammerhead was the only source of light in the darkness: a visual representation of what that place had come to be.

Talcott stopped the truck and they got off.

“There they are,” Gladio grumbled, hefting his greatsword.

Scattered along the road, at some distance, Noctis saw several tall forms, and many other, smaller ones, moving about. They had told him about the daemons having a nesting area along the way, and that seemed to be the place. The truck had stopped at a prudent distance, but the headlights had already dispersed some of the daemons.

“I hate those things,” Prompto sighed, taking his pistols out.

“That is the infestation I mentioned,” Ignis said. “We still don’t know how the nidus appears, but we know that it attracts an uncanny number of lesser daemons.”

“Yeah, big ones too,” said Gladio as they approached.

“Same tactic as ever?” Noctis asked.

“I’d advise some caution,” said the retainer. “It is hard to know how many lesser monsters are prowling about.”

Noctis refrained from asking how Ignis could know without his sight, but then he remembered Talcott’s words on their way to Hammerhead. All warriors in those days had to rely on other senses if their light source became compromised.

The plan would be simple in theory: Noctis would attack the nidus, while the others would keep the daemons at bay.

The daemons were waiting for them. However, nothing prepared them for Noctis’ ring, which he used whenever his friends were in a pinch. The sacred magic imbued his sword, and each slash burned them. The daemons were strong, though, and it took them a while until the road was clear.

“There’s more ahead!” Gladio warned them.

More daemons appeared, this time the smaller ones charged towards them.

Noctis warped and unleashed a series of slashes on several of them, who disappeared with a shrill scream. The momentary distraction served his friends to regroup behind him, just in time before a mindflayer appeared in a cloud of black smoke. The monster tried to attack the king while he tried to regain his balance, but Ignis cleaved his spear on the daemon’s throat, severely wounding it.

The daemon reeled back with a pitiful howl and, at his side, a second cloud materialized and, from it, another mindflayer appeared, but Gladio engaged it before it could harm the retainer.

Noctis heard a gunshot: Prompto had shot the first daemon in the head, hitting it just between the eyes. Ignis, who hadn’t moved, slashed at it with his daggers, which had been imbued with lighting magic. Noctis, using the Ring, conjured a spell which absorbed what remained from its energy, killing it for good.

Gladio, on his side, had managed to wound the second mindflayer, but he was having trouble trying to avoid its tentacles. Prompto, once he saw that Noctis and Ignis were taking care of the first monster, changed his guns for his submachine gun and fired away at the second daemon. The bullets weren’t as effective as Ignis’ weapons and magic with this monster, but they kept it distracted enough time for Gladio to attack. Ignis and Noctis, as soon as the first monster was death, joined the fray.

However, their attention was diverted at a necromancer that had started firing magic attacks at them. Ignis, dodging with ease, shouted to Gladio to leave the mindflayer to him. Gladio let the retainer attack the daemon, while he went for the necromancer.

The first thing the Shield did was taking out an ice grenade and throwing it at the monster. It exploded in a cloud of ice, making the necromancer scream in pain. Noctis used it as cue for attacking, but he saw how his friend’s greatsword cleaved at the monster, shattering one arm with ease. However, the daemon recovered quickly and staggered back, preparing a spell with its remaining hand. Prompto joined the fray, but his bullets couldn’t break the monster’s concentration. Gladio shouted a warning: the energy beam would go straight in Ignis’ direction. The retainer, busy with the mindflayer, gracefully sidestepped it, and the energy beam hit the monster instead, vaporizing it.

Noctis used the Ring once more, but one of the will’o’wisps which floated around the necromancer unleashed a small lightning bolt on him. The spell was weak, but it was enough to break his focus and interrupt the attack. He then felt a hand grabbing him by the neck and lifting him from the ground. However, Gladio cleaved at the necromancer’s body, making it drop Noctis and focus on the Shield. Ignis, his daggers now infused with ice magic, slashed at the daemon in a whirlwind of attacks.

Free from the lich, at least for the moment, Noctis warped towards the nidus, which had started attracting more swarms of smaller daemons. When he finally destroyed the last of them, he looked behind to see the lich disappearing in a cloud of smoke.

He felt exhausted and yet, his three friends walked towards him as if nothing had happened.

“Sup?” Gladio grinned at Noctis, patting his back. “Ten years of sleep ain’t enough?”

“Very funny…” he retorted. But the truth was that he was truly impressed at how strong his friends have become.

Talcott approached them with the truck and sounded the horn. The road would be more or less clear for a long while and they could go faster.

As the dark landscape passed by, Noctis had a sick feeling at the pit of his stomach. He was only hoping that it wasn’t too late for the world to be saved. Intrusive thoughts were constantly in the way since he moored on Cape Caem, about all the lives lost to the Scourge so far. He shook his head, trying to concentrate. Losing focus wouldn’t be good.

Gladio said something about a Meldacio outpost just outside the gates of Insomnia after the wall built by the empire, and before the bridge which led to the Western Gates. But Noctis wasn’t paying attention. Prompto laughed nervously. Some things never changed. At that moment, Noctis realized that it was neither the fighting nor the future what worried him.

_“Even if they can’t solve your problems, you can’t hide what’s goin’ on from ‘em.”_

Cid’s words, sounding from what seemed like another life, made him feel a pang in the chest. He had come to terms with everything but, what about his friends? They had been waiting for ten long years, never losing hope, for this.

He had to tell them, but that wasn’t the right moment. Now it was fighting and surviving. A bit later, perhaps.

The sound of an assault craft echoed on the empty wasteland.

“Damnit…” Gladio grunted.

Before the Shield could make any signal to Talcott, the young man had stopped the truck upon seeing the craft flying over them.

“Imperial stragglers,” Ignis announced, already imbuing his daggers with lightning magic.

“I hear something!” Prompto warned.

Noctis, running along his friends, could hear it too: The voice of a woman crying for help.

The old watchtowers beyond the improvised wall the empire had erected were still up and the search lights still worked, but they were too weak to penetrate the thick mist, and gave the surrounding area a sickly atmosphere. There was a shack on a small hill that Noctis didn’t remember, probably built during the past ten years. That was where the voice came in.

The area was already crawling with daemons, and the assault craft they had seen brought MTs with it.

The imperial soldiers, bereft of any maintenance, were covered in rust, and many parts were missing from their bodies, especially the plates covering their bodies. Nevertheless, the surrounding miasma seemed to power them up and increase their endurance and strength.

The smaller daemons were nearly wiped out when a second craft appeared, this time deploying shock troopers. Noctis knew of their power and, while his friends kept the upcoming daemons away from him, he concentrated the energy of the Ring and released it.

Reality seemed to warp around the spell for a second, and the next one the troopers were absorbed into a magic sphere which disappeared with a bang.

Staggering back, Noctis tried to keep his footing when the world swan around him.

“You okay?” he felt Gladio’ arm around his shoulders.

Noctis nodded. He had nearly forgotten how the stasis felt.

“Watch out!” Prompto yelled.

Pools of miasma formed in some places, and several flans sprung from them. Noctis took care of them while a third craft deployed more MTs.

The hunter inside the lodge wasn’t entirely defenseless, though. A flan broke a window at some point, and was met with a blade between its eyes. It wasn’t enough to stop the daemon, but it gave Noctis enough time to warp towards the amorphous mass and kill it.

When the last of the daemons disappeared, the King noticed a slow, heavy thumping sound in the distance.

Noctis swore under his breath: Three magitek armor units approached them.

He tried warp-striking the nearest one on the leg, but the hit barely made it budge. Without missing a beat, it fired a salvo of rockets Noctis had trouble dodging. He rolled away from the explosions, and didn’t have time to look behind when he heard hurried steps approaching.

“They are more powerful than you remember!” Ignis warned the King while he helped him to his feet.

“We already have some strategy!” yelled Prompto, while he emptied a magazine on the M.A.

Without a word, Ignis imbued Noctis’ sword with lightning magic.

“Try now.”

Using Prompto’s as a distraction, he warped again. There was an electrical explosion when his blade hit the M.A.’s leg, and the machine fell to the ground. Noctis shoot a brief glance at the other two machines: Gladio had attracted their attention and was resisting their attacks.

The King warped again, this time towards one of the M.A.’s attacking Gladio. The machine fell like the first one, and while Gladio kept himself busy with the third one, Noctis attacked with all his might the one at his feet, using the Ring to power up his blade.

Such was the strategy Ignis had come up with when dealing with several M.A. units: Throw them to the ground as fast as possible and attack. Repeat as soon as they are on their feet again until they are deactivated.

It was easier with Noctis, who had the warping ability and the power of the Ring, but it seemed a long-drawn fight to the King. Thrice they had to topple the machines, and twice the missiles were about to kill them. Gladio, at some point, was too reckless and one hit him square in the chest while he was parrying a flailing metal arm. Prompto had to cover him while Ignis ran to administer a potion to his friend. It was a close call, and the Shield might have died, had he been fighting alone.

As the last of the M.A. fell, so did Noctis, exhausted after the combat. Umbra, who had remained in the truck all that time, trotted happily towards him to lick his face. The King laughed, scratching the dog behind the ears.

“Mission accomplished,” Ignis declared.

Gladio and Prompto had gone to the small cabin to check on the Hunter trapped there. The two returned with a young woman on her twenties. Her wounds weren’t serious, and she agreed to let Talcott accompany her back to Hammerhead. It took her a while to take in the fact that she was talking to the lost King, and she seemed overjoyed by the news, thought she also looked like a woman to whom few things fazed her; cutting to the chase, the woman informed them that she had been traveling as a scout for Marshal Leonis and his Kingsglaive.

“The place has always been crawling with nasties,” she said, making a gesture with her hand to point her surroundings. “But we could fight our way in to this point. Past the buffer area is all quiet, and it was empty past the Western Gates too. Something very strange.”

Noctis said nothing. It sounded too perfect, and he knew who might have laid such a trap.

“When was that?” he asked instead.

“A few weeks ago,” she said without missing a beat. “There are lots of monsters inside the City, though, so you’d better be careful. Oh, and MTs. Lots and lots of them. Seems like the miasma powers them up or something.”

They thanked her and saw her to the truck. Talcott assured he wouldn’t have any trouble driving back to Hammerhead, now that the road was clear again.

“But we’d better make haste,” the young man told the Hunter. “You know it only lasts a few hours before the daemons come crawling back.”

Umbra remained, though. The dog refused to go back, sitting stubbornly at Noctis’ feet when the King told him to accompany Talcott.

“Let your furry friend come with us,” said Gladio. “He’s been waiting as long as us for you to show up.”

“The fight has been a harrowing one,” Ignis pointed out. “I’d suggest that we’d made camp and rested for tomorrow.”

“Not here, though,” said Prompto.

“Remember the outlook just around the City’s entrance,” Gladio proposed, taking out the camping gear from the truck. “I’d say we check it out.”

“You serious?” said Noctis, looking at the bags.

“What? You thought Ignis would let me have His Majesty sleep out in the open?”

Noctis still remembered the path through derelict buildings and through the mountain. There were stray MTs prowling among the ruins, nothing they couldn’t handle. The real peril came in the form of a daemonic beast which came out of a wall. Noctis gave orders to his companions to not engage that beast, and get away from its reach as quickly as possible. He knew that this daemon had an uncanny resistance to the Ring’s power, and it didn’t make any sense to engage in a fight which could prove mortal to any of them.

The gorge hadn’t been blocked in those ten years, and Noctis felt grateful for that. But, when they reached the end and saw the walls opening into a plateau, Gladio, who walked first, signaled them to stop and crouch against the rocks.

They could hear the unmistakable breathing of an enormous beast and the heavy footsteps of powerful paws as the beast stalked what appeared to be its new dominions.

“Behemoth,” Noctis sighed, still remembering their experience with Deadeye.

“This one’s even worse,” Gladio grumbled.

The King peered around the wall and felt his heart sinking. That Behemoth dwarfed Deadeye! It was older, Gladio said, so that was why it also had wings, though the Scourge didn’t seem to be affecting it.

“Great, now one of those,” Prompto whined.

“C’mon,” Gladio patted him in the shoulder. “Think of how it will taste after all this exercise.”

“Certainly,” Ignis smiled. “I wouldn’t be against cooking some sirloins.”

“You serious?” Noctis almost laughed.

His retainer didn’t answer, but his smile broadened.

“Okay,” the King sighed. “Any plan?”

Gladio had more experience with those beasts. While the Shield talked, Prompto whispered to Noctis that their friend had been hunting Behemoths down as training.

The plan wasn’t as simple as it seemed. This kind of evolved Behemoths used magic along with brute force, and it was said that they could summon blizzards to weaken and blind their prey.

“Did you bring it?” Gladio asked Prompto all of a sudden.

“You know I always carry it on big hunts,” the gunslinger smiled, as he summoned a bazooka and patted it affectionately.

They took their positions and Gladio gave the signal. Prompto stood inside the chasm and readied the bazooka. Might as it was, the Behemoth couldn’t reach inside the ravine without bringing it down on itself. Gladio knew those beasts possessed some degree of intelligence, and waged his strategy on the animal’s self-preservation instinct.

The gunslinger had a clear vision of the Behemoth, despite the miasma. It had stopped at the border of the plateau, maybe looking for some prey, maybe on the lookout for daemons. Prompto waited until the beast gave its back to him and fired. As quickly as his weapon allowed it, he fired again, when the beast was already charging towards the ravine. His friends ran past him to block the beast from trying to enter, and Prompto fired a third rocket. Three shots, three explosions. All point-blank.

Noctis warp-struck the monster in the head, right after the last rocket exploded, blinding the beast. After that, Gladio and Ignis arrived and, as the shield had instructed, they unleashed a relentless attack, so the Behemoth couldn’t fix its attention on any of them for more than a few seconds. Prompto, from his side, kept shooting with his machine gun while the bazooka cooled down.

The behemoth tried getting away from the ravine’s entrance, but Prompto had a keen eye and a steady hand, and not even the blizzard the beast summoned could prevent the gunslinger from hitting his target.

The fight dragged out more than they thought. After the fifth salvo of rockets, the Behemoth sought cover next to the ravine’s entrance, forcing Prompto to get out if he wanted to keep firing. This single movement risked their whole strategy. Gladio, seeing this, used his shield and his sword together to keep the monster distracted. However, the Behemoth was an intelligent beast, and its purpose was to lure whatever was attacking it out of the ravine.

Prompto kept firing even as the beast charged towards him. He knew the attacking patterns of these animals, and he knew he only had to watch out for the claws. The gunslinger dodged just in time as the claw passed over his head.

“Where are you going?” Gladio yelled, slashing at one of the beast’s hind legs.

The Behemoth turned around with a roar and Prompto, now secure again inside the ravine, took out his bazooka once more.

Three rounds of firing rockets and shooting with the machinegun later, the Behemoth seemed to be on his last legs, but its tenacity didn’t die down. The three warriors and the beast had reached a standstill, their energy almost depleted. Suddenly the Behemoth lurched forward, trying to reach Gladio with his giant paw. The warrior had enough energy to lift his shield and withstand the blow; he closed his eyes, bracing for the impact.

An explosion went off. When Gladio opened his eyes, the beast staggered backwards, falling so heavily the ground shook under their feet.

The Behemoth was dead.

“Wohoo! We are alive!” the three friends heard Prompto yelling from the crevice.

Gladio shook his head, chuckling. He had missed those moments.

“I’ll get all the camping stuff,” he said.

Helping Gladio setting up camp brought warm memories to Noctis. Their road trip had been fun and dangerous. He wished he could go back in time and do things differently, have another outcome, protect those he cared about better.

Looking at his friends, he felt something more than the wave of nostalgia. Cid’s words echoed in his mind stronger than ever. He needed to tell them.

The four friends shared a delicious meal around the fire, like in the old times. After that they laughed and told jokes over Ignis’ coffee but Noctis, despite following them, wasn’t entirely _there_.

Taking a pause in the conversation as his cue, he began to speak. He had been rehearsing it on his mind ever since he set foot on Galdin Quay, but speaking was harder than thinking.

His friends listened in respectful silence until he finished, and then Ignis spoke.

They already knew.

It was in the old tomes, he said. From there they learned about Ardyn’s curse and how his brother had to imprison them, waiting for the birth of a King of Lucis powerful enough to cleanse the Scourge from Eos.

Noctis looked at his friends as if it was the first time he saw them. Ten years waiting for him, fully knowing what would happen, and now they were accompanying him during the final stretch. They were smiling softly at him, even Ignis, but there was also a sadness about them, like that of a person who has already accepted fate.

Maybe that would make what he was about to say easier. Or so he thought. The moment he tried to say the next words, he stumbled into them, until Gladio just said:

“Out with it.”

“I just…” Noctis started again, but the words jumbled together. “Dammit. The hell is this so hard?”

He tried again.

“So, I… I’ve made my peace. Still… Knowing this is it, and seeing you here, now,” keeping his voice from wavering was even harder than saying those words. “It’s… more than I can take.”

His tears fell, unchecked, as he bowed his head.

“Yeah,” Prompto whispered. “You’re damn right it is.”

“Uh, you spit it out,” Gladio said, wiping away his own tears.

“It’s good to hear,” Ignis let out a sigh.

Noctis then got up and looked at each one of them, speaking in a hoarse voice.

“Well… what can I say?” he smiled. “You guys… are the best.”

**xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx**

Needing some time on his own, the King went to the edge of the cliff to collect his thoughts. His friends stayed around the bonfire for a while, before they started busying themselves and preparing to sleep.

It was hard to believe that, ten years prior, he had stood on that same cliff under the rain, watching the columns of smoke rising from his beloved Insomnia. Now the city lain in ruins, but not entirely in darkness. Ardyn’s work, no doubt. It didn’t seem past him to keep the city running, if only to have it as a mockery of what once was.

After Gladio and Prompto went to sleep, Ignis approached Noctis.

“Y’know,” said Noctis when he heard his retainer’s footsteps. “Looking back… It wasn’t all bad.”

“I suppose we had some fun along the way.”

“And our fair share of trouble, too… But I don’t have any regrets. Luna and you guys brought me this far, and now I’m on my own.”

“No. You won’t be going alone. I’ll-”

“No, you’re right,” Noctis interrupted, turning to face him. “I mean, I wouldn’t have made it all this way without you guys. Why stop now? In the end, I might not have you at my side,” he put his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “But I’ll always have you in my heart. Thanks… Thanks for everything, Iggy.”

Ignis had a flash of memories: He saw a small, black haired child, shyly hiding behind his father, who softly pushed him towards Ignis.

Following his memory, Ignis extended his hand in the present day, and he felt Noctis’ taking it between his own. They weren’t the hands of a small child anymore, but those of an adult man: the hands of a warrior and a king. Feeling the tears rolling down his cheeks, Ignis smiled.


	41. The Light of Hope

**BOOK 2: THE TALE OF THE CHOSEN KING**

**CHAPTER 29 – THE LIGHT OF HOPE**

“Home, sweet home,” said Gladio as they walked through the streets of Insomnia.

“Yeah,” Prompto echoed. “At long last.”

“What we’ve been waiting for…” said Ignis.

“Sure is.”

The Citadel shone in the distance. Noctis remembered that last time he saw his father, at the stairs of the Palace. Taking the Ring out of his pocket, he put it on his finger.

“Are you with me?” he asked his friends.

“Of course,” said Ignis.

“You bet,” Prompto puffed out his chest.

“Until the very end,” his shield declared.

“It’s time to finish this, once and for all,” said the King, walking deeper into the dilapidated streets of his beloved Insomnia.

It was the first time Noctis set foot on Insomnia after that fateful day when his father bid them farewell. Assault crafts had crashed against some of the buildings, bringing them partially down in many cases, and in others blocking entire avenues with the debris.

Rogue MTs patrolled some areas, no doubt still working long after their masters from the empire had either perished or fled. The small areas not controlled by the soldiers swarmed with daemons of every size and form, some of which were rarely seen before the start of the Long Night.

The friends ran into a squad of soldiers they quickly dispatched.

“That’s the way!” Ignis cheered as Noctis felled the last of them.

“We haven’t fought together like this in ages,” said Gladio, a wide grin on his face. The emotions of the previous day were still fresh in their minds.

“Really takes you back, doesn’t it?” Noctis commented.

“We may have struggled before,” said Prompto. “But now nothing can stand in our way!”

Gladio looked around them, growing serious all of a sudden.

“I’m surprised we haven’t seen any Glaive around here,” he commented.

Noctis remembered the Hunter from the previous day. The Marshal had come to Insomnia with a group of Glaive to set up a base.

“Their base is up ahead,” said Gladio, pointing forward. “C’mon.”

They reached a plaza with a half-dilapidated fountain and a Naga patrolling before a subway entrance. It wasn’t as strong as the daemons from outside, judging by how easy they would kill it.

“Guess we’ve still got a little fight left in us,” Gladio said, unsummoning his sword once the daemons disappeared in a cloud of black mist.

“You say that like we’ve already peaked,” Noctis protested.

“Yeah,” Prompto echoed. “We haven’t even reached our prime!”

“Huh. Guess you’re right,” the Shield smiled.

Ignis was the first one to walk down the stairs. Piles of debris and broken street furniture formed two walls down the stairs, with a space for humans to walk through. Inside, crates, generators and tents occupied the space by the walls, but they saw no one there.

Deeper into the subway hall, MT soldiers attacked them. It seemed like they had ambushed the Glaive and the warriors had to fall back. After disabling them, Gladio guided them through the tunnels into the flooded second level.

There, sacks of sand had been piled in some places as barricades, but there was still no trace of either humans or daemons at first glance. Gladio, however, saw something in the distance that made his rush ahead. When Noctis caught up with him, he saw his Shield had grown pale.

Dead bodies piled up against the barricades, all wearing the Kingsglaive uniform.

“Looks fresh,” Prompto said grimly, readying his guns.

“Then we should hurry,” Ignis urged. “There may be survivors nearby.”

Ahead, what Noctis thought were small mounds of rubbish were actually carcasses of fallen MTs.

They found two giant black flans in the next hallway. Finding the culprits of the carnage, Noctis raised the Ring and casted a spell. A ball of light engulfed the two daemons and exploded, flooding the hallway with a blinding light.

His mental energy spent, he staggered briefly before straightening his back.

“Follow me,” he said.

“What kingly confidence you’ve acquired,” Ignis teased with a satisfied smile.

“And it only took ten years,” Gladio followed his friend’s joke.

Noctis smiled, despite his tiredness. It wouldn’t take him long to recover, though, and he continued to the end of the hallway, where the stairs would take them to another part of the first level.

As they ascended, they heard sounds of fighting. They saw a lone figure, clad in the Crownsguard’s uniform, battling against a swarm of insect-like daemons. Gladio rushed forward, his sword ready.

“Marshal! You gone senile or something?” the Shield yelled.

“These monsters…” Prompto said as they all rushed behind Gladio. “Look at what they’ve done to our home! There’s so many of them!”

“Tell me about it,” the Marshal grumbled, readying his katana for another attack. “I’ve been at it for hours.”

“Hang in a little longer, then,” said Noctis, before warping into the fray.

“When is this gonna end?” Gladio protested and his sword traced a wide arc in front of him.

“When we kill them all,” said Cor. “Focus!”

With spells and sword, Noctis carved his way through the swarm. If Cor had killed a big amount already, the King didn’t want to think how many of them were in the first place.

When the swarm was finally taken care of, and it didn’t look like more would appear, Cor approached Noctis with an appraising look.

“You’ve grown into a fine leader,” he said.

Noctis could see how the past ten years had treated Cor Leonis: His hair was grey and there were more wrinkles on his face, yet time hadn’t eroded his fierceness or the intensity of his blue eyes.

“Thanks. You set a pretty good example.”

“You alright?” Gladio said to Cor.

“More or less. I’m glad you made it back,” then he turned to Noctis again. “I’ve got something to show you. Follow me.”

“What brought you back to Insomnia?” Noctis asked as the group walked behind Cor.

“We wanted to do what we could to make sure everything was in order. For the day the King returned to reclaim his rightful seat on the throne.”

He guided them to a closed security door. Using a key, he led them into a short corridor.

“We are stationed up ahead. It’s about the only place we have left.”

Opening another security door, they walked into a wide room. Many of the Glaive where there resting, dressing their wounds, or doing chores around the base, but the atmosphere was a gloomy one.

“Good news, everyone!” Cor announced. “Your King has returned.”

All looked to the door, and all stood up and went to greet them.

“My liege!” one exclaimed.

“I knew you’d come back!”

“Your Highness,” said Cor, making the Lucian military salute, as all the other Glaive did. “For many moons we have eagerly awaited the coming of this day.”

Noctis looked at them bowing down. He saw their faces lighting up with hope, and knew he couldn’t let them down.

“Brothers and sisters,” he said. “Brave warriors of Lucis. You’ve done well these ten years. And I thank you. You’ve done so much, all for my sake. Even as the darkness overcame our world, we kept the Light alive in our hearts. We’ve lost friends and loved ones along the way, but the one thing we never lost was hope. Brothers and sisters, I ask you to stand by me and fight at my side… for the Light, and for the future of our world!”

“All hail the King of Light!” Cor said, raising his fist in the air.

The Glaive shouted in unison, all weariness washed away by the sight of their King and his words. They quickly surrounded him to express their gratitude.

“The Glaive’s finally got its king,” Gladio murmured to Ignis.

“They’re all so happy to have him back,” said Prompto.

“Yes… but none are happier than us,” Ignis pointed out with a soft smile.

The base occupied two stories of the subway. There they had installed bunk beds for everyone and working spaces for the officials, including a makeshift office for Cor and a meeting room.

There they could settle and plan a strategy against Ardyn. Ever since Noctis had disappeared inside the Crystal, Ardyn had taken residence inside the Citadel, surrounding the perimeter with powerful daemons as protection. They had to find a way to weaken him if they wanted to take Insomnia back.

Noctis expected to the sent straight away towards the Citadel but, instead, he found himself sitting at the meeting room with his friends, planning strategies. Cor and his subordinates were very capable people, and in a few weeks they had created a whole infrastructure of intelligence and security. But, necessary as they were, meetings were physically and mentally taxing, and Noctis began to truly understand why his father hated them.

In one of the recesses of such meetings, Noctis took Prompto aside to talk. There had been something nagging at him since he reached Hammerhead.

“So,” the King asked. “How’d things work out with you-know-who?”

His friend flashed a roguish smile.

“A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell.”

That was a far cry from the times when Prompto became crestfallen if anyone asked him about a girl he liked. Ten years had been a long time, and some things might have changed for the better.

“Look at you,” Noctis chuckled, but then his smile vanished. “Just remember: hold tight to the ones you love and don’t let go. Loose your grip and you lose ‘em for good…”

Prompto, understanding his words, nodded and patted his friend on the back.

That day, the scouts had brought information about the infrastructure the empire had built during the occupation. It was late already, and Cor dismissed everyone until the following day, when they were fresh to go over the received intelligence, but he asked Noctis to stay a bit longer.

“Never thought I’d find myself asking you for help,” Cor commented as the two of them went through the reports. “’Preciate it.”

Noctis said he was more than welcome, and that he would lend a hand with whatever he needed. The marshal nodded, and asked Noctis if he had a minute to spare. It seemed there was another thing he wanted to discuss, but didn’t know how to broach the subject.

“What’s on your mind?” Noctis asked.

“Plenty,” Cor said, passing a hand over his silver hair. “Question is: where to start?”

He seemed to finally make his mind when he looked at Noctis straight in the eye.

“You really are the spitting image of your father.”

“Think so?”

“You’re a kind soul… like him. He’d always say: _A single act of grace can save the human race_.”

“If only it were that easy,” Noctis shook his head.

“But it is. The people you have saved will go on to save others and find ways to make life on this Star better for us all.”

“Sounds like Dad… ever the optimist.”

“He was right, thought,” Cor assured. “Your father knew his actions would resonate into the future. That’s why he chose to save you. Because he knew you would save us all.”

“Wouldn’t want to let my old man down,” Noctis grinned.

Speaking about the past seemed to have set Cor into a melancholic mood. He smiled sadly, his eyes lost in the void.

“You know when someone’s truly dead?”

“When?”

“It’s not when their soul departs this world…” Cor said. “It’s when their memory does. And if they’re never forgotten, then they’re never really gone.”

“I guess that makes sense…”

“That’s why I make a point to always remember those who have fallen… so I can keep their memory alive,” he chuckled suddenly. “I was also thinking back to the day you were born.”

“What about it?”

“No one saw it coming… not that soon, at least. When we heard your mother was about to give birth, your father and I dropped everything. We hopped in the Regalia and off we went… A little too quickly, though. We made it to the hospital in one piece, but the car wasn’t so lucky. Cid wasn’t too happy about that one.”

“Yeah, I can imagine,” Noctis laughed.

“To be frank, though, I didn’t catch a word Cid said. All I could think about was how happy your father looked. I’m sure he’d be proud to know the little boy he held that day has grown into a fine young man.”

“I had a little help,” the king admitted with modesty.

“Thanks for taking the time to talk with me.”

“Should’ve started listening to my elders sooner. Hopeful the younger generation won’t make the same mistake I did.”

“Think they’ll make time for an old man like me?”

“They’re gonna want someone to serve as their role model, won’t they?”

“Guess I won’t be retiring any time soon, then,” Cor chuckled.

That night, when he was about to go to bed, Noctis’ phone buzzed. It was Cindy.

Word had spread very quickly about the Chosen King being back. It was just natural that his friends would want to contact him.

Cindy’s voice made him smile. She sounded as energetic as always, and he closed his eyes, remembering that sunny, hot day when they had to push the Regalia to Hammerhead. The woman kept talking about her next project: a machine to produce enough energy for a whole city without the need of more Meteor shards.

“Hard at work as always,” he commented

 _“Just pitchin’ in and doin’ my part,”_ she said with modesty.

“And you can count on me to pitch in and do my part as well.”

_“Well, whatever you end up doin’, make sure you don’t keep a girl waitin’ this time, y’hear?”_

“I’ll see what I can do,” he said, trying his best to sound as cheerful as he could. “And sent Cid my regards.”

It was hard to keep it from everyone. He could trust his friends with the secret, but he wasn’t so sure that other people would accept it. Cindy was a resolute woman, and it was in her character to look for alternatives. Not this time, unfortunately. It was a bittersweet feeling, to know that so many people cared so deeply about him.

Right after he hung, his phone buzzed again. Iris.

He let the phone buzzing on his hand for a few heartbeats. That was a calling he didn’t want to pick up but, if anyone deserved the courtesy of a long talk, it was her.

Taking a deep breath, Noctis picked it up.

Her voice was deeper than he remembered, and then he realized that she must have been twenty-five by that time.

 _“I didn’t believe Gladdy when he told me you were back,”_ she said. She hadn’t lost an ounce of her energy.

“How’ve you been?” he asked awkwardly.

_“I’ve… been okay. Actually, there’s something I wanted to talk with you about…”_

“What?”

_“It can wait. I’d rather talk about it in person. So… Just make sure you come back in one piece, okay?”_

“… Yeah,” he barely whispered.

 _Then she hasn’t received the figurine yet,_ he thought.

After the attempt on his life, Noctis had spent many days drifting between life and death. His father had delegated every single task on Clarus, to spend day and night at his son’s bedside. Noctis remembered the first days after he opened his eyes again like a haze, trying to remember the strange dreams he had.

Then he saw the figurine of a strange, sea-green, fox-like creature, sitting quietly on his pillow, and the dreams came back to him. He had dreamed about the forests of Tenebrae and about the Palace, and there was a strange creature guiding him on his travels, the same one which now looked back at him with black, beady eyes: Carbuncle, one of the many messengers of the Six.

The figurine was very realistic, and even the small ruby on the creature’s forehead seemed like a real gem. Noctis remembered taking it on his hand and feeling a warmth sensation wash over him. His father told him it was a blessed amulet, and told him to carry it always with him.

And so he did. Even when he was a teenager or when he attended University and was a disgruntled young man, Carbuncle would always go with him.

But now he would need no protection anymore.

When they finally parted ways with Talcott, Noctis entrusted the figurine to the young man, and instructed him to deliver it to Iris, with the same message his father had told him: “He will protect you.”

All his friends had known about Carbuncle, so that simple interchange spoke volumes to them. And so did Iris’ request to Noctis.

Gladio had known the truth all along, yet he had kept it from his sister. Noctis didn’t want to be the one breaking it to her. He couldn’t bring himself to hear her sadness or, worse yet, her rage towards something no one could change.

She was strong, he kept telling himself. It would be better that way.

“Thanks for taking care of everyone while I was gone,” he managed to say. Suddenly his voice became hoarse. “And, if anything happens, I’ll be counting on you.”

 _“I’m sure nothing will happen,”_ she reassured him. _“See ya soon… okay, Noct?”_

“Yeah. See ya soon.”

He hung up with a deep sigh. Thankfully, Gladio wasn’t within earshot.

Noctis buried his face in his hands with a groan. Talking with Iris had put back in perspective everything that had to be done. He kept telling himself that, despite causing Iris and his other friends a lot of pain, his actions would set the foundations for a better future, one they could enjoy in peace.

He tried envisioning the kind of world that would exist after the Long Night ended: Cindy wouldn’t need to work as feverishly once artificial light wasn’t such a crucial matter, and she and Prompto could be happy together if they desired; Ignis could open that restaurant, something Noctis knew he would love to do, and Gladio could marry his girl and start a family.

Iris… Iris was already an adult, and she could carve whatever path in life she wanted for herself.

He knew it would be a good world to live in.


	42. The Lion's Roar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this chapter as an extra piece, and one of the few original additions I let myself include. You can skip in entirely and it won’t change the story, but this chapter closes a story arc that always irked me to see it incomplete and only mentioned through an elusive Easter Egg in the final dungeon.

**BOOK 2: THE TALE OF THE CHOSEN KING**

**CHAPTER 30 – THE LION’S ROAR**

The next day after the briefing, Cor gave them the keys to the other doors along the subway, telling them that the perimeter should be reasonably secure; he and his Glaive had spent weeks clearing it from daemons.

The friends took the exit which lead to a plaza near the Citadel, which they could see clearly. Noctis was relieved of seeing the building intact.

“Fashionably late, I see,” said a voice over them.

Looking up, they saw Ardyn standing atop a lamppost, looking at them, his mocking grin all the more infuriating.

“Ardyn…” Noctis grunted.

“Insomnia,” he made a theatrical salute. “The Crown City of my kingdom. I bid you a warm welcome.”

He snapped his fingers, and fireballs rained upon the city, setting what remained of Insomnia on fire.

“I’ve prepared something special for you, Noctis.”

A magic barrier appeared around the Citadel, a mocking mirror of the Wall that once protected Lucis. Seeing Noctis’ look of surprise, he jeered at him.

“Yes, it’s the same Wall your father gave his life to sustain. I thought it might serve as a lovely little reminder of your Daddy Dearest. Do you like it?”

“You’re sick!” Noctis yelled.

“How could you say that to your own flesh and blood!?” Ardyn exclaimed, badly mimicking a hurt tone. “I’ll try to find in my heart to forgive you by the time you reach the Citadel. My little pet will greet you by the gates.”

He disappeared in a cloud of black mist.

Not only was the city now on fire: Daemons had started spawning again. The friends cleared the plaza, but the sheer number of monsters made them retreat back into the subway to regroup.

The marshal didn’t hide his surprise when he saw they had returned so soon. When the friends delivered the news, his broad shoulders slumped visibly: Months of hard work undone in a few seconds at the snap of Ardyn’s fingers.

Noctis offered to serve as spearhead, given that they were more powerful, and now he can the full power of the Ring. Cor sighed tiredly, but soon he straightened his back and asked Gladio to summon all the Glaive in the base for a briefing.

There followed days on which the only thing they did was hunting and surviving but, little by little, they retook more ground from the daemons.

One of the main concerns for Cor was the bases scattered throughout the City. They couldn’t disable all of them, but it wasn’t necessary. There were three bases stationed on critical points around the Citadel. They all possessed amplificators which powered up MTs and magitek armors. Those were the ones they needed to decommission as soon as possible.

Having the King hunting alongside the Glaive hadn’t been in Cor’s plans. The only thing they absolutely needed the Ring’s power was for decommissioning the bases, the marshal had told him, but Noctis had insisted so much on helping with all the other tasks no one could deny him.

To Noctis and his friends, after having dealt with the daemons and the MTs outside the City, the bases didn’t seem too difficult. The marshal accompanied them on each raid, but no victory seemed to lighten up his countenance.

After they returned from destroying the last base, Cor took Noctis aside.

“There is one more hunt,” he said, his expression even more severe than was usual on him.

“Sure, where do you want us to go?”

The marshal looked at him in silence for a moment, as if assessing him, or as if thinking what to say next.

“A daemon,” he said at last. “It has been menacing the lives of my soldiers ever since we came here to Insomnia. We have been able to avoid it so far, but its existence could interference with our task at hand.”

“Leave it to us then.”

Cor shook his head.

“I have to go with you. It’s something I must take part in, no matter how.”

“Care to tell me what’s this all about?” Noctis said, sensing that there was more than met the eye.

Cor sighed, passing a gloved hand through his hair.

“I am indebted to an old friend,” he said with difficulty. “I have to see that his soul finally rests in peace.”

Noctis said nothing more. A quest for vengeance for the fallen was something quite common during those times. Only the Six knew how many friends and comrades Cor had seen fall in the battlefield.

The next day, as they made their way through the streets of Insomnia, Noctis saw the marshal was paler than usual, and more silent. Quietly asking Gladio about it, his friend could only say that it was a personal obsession of him, and that he had tried to kill that daemon for years, ever since they could gain entrance to the city for occasional skirmishes.

They stepped into the main street, now empty of daemons after the friends and the Glaive had been hunting for days. Prompto was about to comment on it, but Cor raised his hand, commanding silence.

Fuel-fed fires crackled in the distance. An explosion echoed far away, and the wind carried the stench of burned daemonic flesh. Nothing stirred in the main street as they stood there, holding their breath.

Then they heard it. At first they thought it was the wind, but then they realized it was a wailing. It sounded almost human, but it had an unnatural quality to it that made their hair stand on end.

“There it is,” Cor murmured, unsheathing his katana.

They all readied their weapons, and slowly advanced behind the marshal. They already knew what kind of daemon it was, as they had killed many of that kind, but it was the first time Noctis had heard such a sound coming from it. Seeing how cautious Leonis acted, this daemon had to be a very powerful subspecies.

Coming out of an alleyway, the daemon appeared at last. A floating form clad in a tattered tunic, three will-o-wisps hovered around it, illuminating the daemon with a ghastly light. The robe was open, revealing a nightmarish body which was nothing but twisted, coiled, blackened branches, and here and there they could see skulls intertwined in the woody knots, as if the monster wore the trophies of its killings. Under the hood, a skeletal face seemed to grin at them, as two gnarly hands prepared the spell to attack its enemies.

They dodged the outburst of energy launched at them, and Noctis quickly understood why the marshal had asked for their help. This daemon was far more powerful than the others they had encountered.

Cor’s katana wounded the monster, but it only made a small dent. It was Noctis’ sword what seemed to have more effect, though several times he had to use the Ring’s powers. But even so, the daemon resisted their onslaught.

A burst of dark energy hit Noctis in the shoulder just as he was about to warp away, making him lose his footing. He heard Gladio yelling, but it was a distant, muffled sound. He felt two powerful hands grabbing at his shoulders with a grip of iron, and he was lifted in the air. Through his blurred sight he saw two points of light, and felt the energy being sapped from him. Then the daemon screamed in rage as a katana wounded it on one of its arms, making it bleed black, dropping the King.

Noctis fell and rolled away on instinct. The daemon had lowered its guard but for a moment, and the marshal had made use of it to slash at its body. Now it was Ignis the one to cleave at it with his spear, while Prompto threw a grenade on its direction.

The King warped to a nearby street lamp to regain his energy, and launched an attack at the monster’s back. The blow made it stagger, creating an opening at the front for Gladio to cleave at it. Nevertheless, the monster moved its hands again and the will-o-wisps shone brighter, and Cor shouted a warning for them to step back.

Prompto was nearly caught by the ray of magic light. Scrambling to his feet, the gunslinger readied his gun and shot, hitting the monster on the shoulder. While its attention was directed at the blond, Ignis jumped and drove his spear between its shoulders, to then jump back as Gladio cleaved heavily at the body. It was Noctis’ turn, who summoned the Royal Arms and he wielded them to deliver blow after blow on the daemon.

He heard Cor shouting at Gladio just behind him. Turning, he saw his Shield had laid his greatsword for the marshal to step on it. Hefting the weapon with all his might, he propelled the older warrior in the air. Cor wielded his katana with the blade downguards, and landed squarely on the daemon’s chest, driving his blade all the way to the guard.

The daemon gave one last, long-drawl howl, which faded away as its body dissolved, leaving only its tattered robe on the ground.

Noctis sat heavily on the tarmac, trying to catch his breath. His friends started cheering each other for a well-fought battle.

“Not bad for a warm-up,” Gladio grinned as he helped Noctis back to his feet.

He was about to quip something back, but Prompto tugged at his elbow. The gunslinger jerked his chin towards the daemon’s remains, and both Noctis and Gladio fell silent.

Cor stood by the tunic, his katana sheathed yet gripped firmly on his left hand. While Prompto quickly explained the scene to Ignis, Noctis approached the marshal.

“Your friend will rest in peace now,” he said.

Far from showing any mirth, the marshal’s face was set on a stern mask. He spoke after some time and, to Noctis’ surprise, his deep voice sounded hoarse.

“For ten-odd years,” Cor began. “I called myself his friend. We sparred and worked together, and our birthplace meant nothing between us.”

“Don’t tell me…” said Gladio, who had approached them.

But Cor didn’t seem to listen.

“I called myself his friend,” he slowly repeated through clenched teeth, as if each word was an affront to that memory. “Yet I could never see how darkness slowly consumed him.”

“Drautos?” Noctis murmured, realization dawning on him. It wasn’t a quest for vengeance, but to lay his friend to rest.

“Stop beating yourself over it,” Gladio scolded the marshal. “He made his choice and saw it to the end. Be glad that at least you could free him from his misery.”

Cor pursed his lips, but nodded after a while. He then knelt and, leaving his katana at his side, he put a hand on the tunic where Drautos’ right shoulder should have been.

“Goodbye, old friend,” he said, struggling to keep his voice from wavering, his scarred face softening with a sad smile. “May Death grants you the peace you so deserved in life.”

He seemed like he wanted to say more, but he then bowed his head as if offering a silent prayer. Noctis stepped away, averting his eyes from the older man to give him some privacy.

Something caught the king’s eye: A metallic glint at the edge of the frayed robes.

The wind lifted the cloth enough for him to see two blades lying on the ground, as if the daemon had been carrying them: A pair of kukris, the kind which was common among the Kingsglaive.

These ones, however, seemed customized. The golden hilts were engraved with soft, curved patterns, and each blade had a different motif to it. One of parallel lines, the other made with a spiral design, reminiscent of vines. A charm dangled from each weapon, one made of beads, the other fashioned with two fangs.

He took them, and a jolt shook him. His mind was suddenly flooded with images of war and fire, and that of a man wielding those kukris. He saw General Glauca, whose helmet had been split in two, to reveal the face of Titus Drautos underneath, and he saw one of the kukris being plunged on the Captain’s chest.

“Dude, you okay?” he heard a voice nearby.

Noctis shook his head, and saw that he was standing with the blades in his hands. Prompto had put a hand on his shoulder and was gently shaking him. He nodded, but went to Cor, who was already taking his sword and preparing to go back to the base.

“Did Drautos wield these weapons?”

The marshal frowned for a moment.

“I know those charms and those designs,” he said. “Those were the weapons of Nyx Ulric. He was Drautos’ best Glaive. I remember Titus trained him personally.”

Noctis had heard that name before. Ulric had saved Luna from Drautos and from the empire’s destruction. The Kings let him use the Ring but made him pay the ultimate price.

Cor shook his head.

“Whichever the case, Drautos seemed to remember him enough to take his weapons with him.”

Noctis offered the kukris to Cor, telling them that they should remain with the Kingsglaive, but the marshal said that he should keep them.

“I’m sure his former owner would be happy to lend them to your cause.”

The King nodded and willed them away, adding them to his arsenal.

Walking back to the base, Cor remained silent, but the friends noticed that his body language had relaxed, and that it seemed as if a great burden had been lifted from him.

But, despite the happy outcome, there was a question nagging at Noctis. However, he waited until he was alone with the marshal.

How did Cor know that Drautos had been daemonified, instead of killed?

Leonis held Noctis’ gaze for a long moment before answering.

It had happened in the weeks after the imperial occupation. Cor snuck inside the City to spy on the empire, and in search for survivors. He was supposed to have been out of there before sundown, but something unexpected happened and he remained there until dark.

The daemon ambushed him, but it did not attack right away.

“It… He said my name,” said Cor, his blue eyes wide, haunted by the memory. “I thought it was a trick, but no daemon can talk. I stood there, frozen, maybe for a heartbeat, and then it lunged at me. I was overpowered and ran away, to my shame,” he shook his head. “Years later I had a run in with Ardyn. He taunted me, telling me that he might turn my Glaive into daemons, _‘Just like I did to your dear friend Titus’_ , he said. Then I knew I hadn’t imagined things.”

Cor let out a long sigh.

“Knowing Ardyn,” he continued. “He might have been playing games with me.”

“Daemons can talk,” Noctis said. The marshal looked at him in bewilderment, maybe wondering if his King was also playing with him.

Noctis described the encounter with the talking Naga inside the cave, so many years prior, and how it matched the legend of a woman who got lost in that place looking for her child.

“Maybe if the will is strong enough some memories remain for a while,” he suggested. “I know it’s serves as little consolation, and I wish there was a true cure for the daemonified ones other than death.”

After a long silence on which Cor seemed to ponder his King’s words, the marshal nodded, pursing his lips.

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” he said. “It would take more than words to atone for my sins, for all the comrades I’ve lost, but I hope to rebuild this world so they feel proud of it.”

The King nodded. A new world where the fallen could be remembered, and the living could make them proud. That was what he would want.


	43. The Old Wall

**BOOK 2: THE TALE OF THE CHOSEN KING**

**CHAPTER 31 – THE OLD WALL**

Noctis stood in the middle of the main road, looking at the gates of the Citadel. Ten years prior he had set on a trip, leaving his father at the stairs of the Palace. He could have never guessed it would be the last time they would see each other.

Now, dark clouds gathered above them, and the Citadel was surrounded by a red barrier. It probably fed from Ardyn’s life-force, the same way the Wall fed from the Lucian kings. But Ardyn was immortal, which meant that it could stand unmoving forevermore. But, as Ignis had pointed out, “one problem at a time”. First they would have to deal with the enormous, dark form sleeping before the gates.

The beast, whatever it was, could have dwarfed the Behemoth they had killed at the overlook some days prior. They had to proceed with caution.

But, stealthy as they intended to be, the daemon had a keen ear, or it was already waiting for them. It had heard them, and quickly stood on its feet. From all the grotesque mockeries of life, this one had taken the form of a giant, three-headed hound. Its skin was covered with hardened plates and underneath glowed in red and orange the fire power it used to attack its enemies.

A Cerberus.

“Must be Ardyn’s _little pet_ ,” Gladio said, readying his sword and shield.

“We can only hope it’s bark is worse than its bite,” Ignis joked, already preparing an ice spell at Noctis’ word.

“Hope it’s ready… we bite back,” Noctis quipped, as he set himself on a fighting stance.

The scaly skin was hard as tempered steel, and the friends had to target the skin in between the joints. The monster jumped on top of the Citadel’s walls to have the higher ground, but Noctis warped towards it as Prompto fired to cover him. He nailed his sword on the left head, and slashed at the neck once he got a sure grip on the hardened hide. The middle head tried biting at him, but he parried, making the muzzle propel him upwards. He warped again, this time targeting the middle head, which he slashed at without mercy. The Cerberus shook its head violently, throwing Noctis away, but he warped a third time, landing this time below the heads, and in the beast’s chest.

He nailed his blade on the place where necks and chest joined, and the Cerberus howled in pain, losing its grip on the wall and falling to the ground.

The four friends used that moment to attack at the same time, using all the powerful techniques they had learned through the years.

The Cerberus shook them away, despite its wounds, and magma began dripping from its maws. It vomited fire and a fiery wall surrounded them all.

“Is it too late to ask Ardyn to call off his dog?” Prompto yelled over the roaring flames.

“I’m afraid it is,” Ignis yelled back.

The beast roared, ready to pounce. Something moved to Noctis’ right field of vision. A warrior had jumped over the flames and slashed at the middle head with his katana.

“Marshal!”

“Mind if this old soldier joins you?” Cor asked, standing at Noctis’ side.

“Not at all!” the King said.

“Good. You may be down, but you’re not out. Get ready for round two!”

The Cerberus had become more vicious, and climbed again the wall to jump over the warriors. Noctis repeated the same strategy, making the beast fall to the ground, where Cor and the rest unleashed all their techniques. The daemon got to its feet again, spewing fire and trying to bite at them, but after several attempts, Gladio could finally deliver a devastating slash at the monster’s legs, making it fall for what appeared to be the last time.

“Watch out!”

With one last effort, the daemon launched a fireball towards Noctis. They had relaxed but for a few seconds and lowered their guards, except for Cor, who jumped before the King to protect him.

“Marshal!”

The beast’s red eyes finally went off and the three heads lain limp on the tarmac, but the friends hurried to help Cor.

“Hey, you all right?” Gladio asked.

“Looks like even _the Immortal_ has his limits…” Cor chuckled. He was badly injured by the magic fire. “I’ve failed you, Highness…”

His words chocked up in a fit of coughing.

“No, you haven’t,” Noctis said, readying a potion.

Cor grabbed him by the shoulder and looked into his eyes.

“It has been… the highest honor… to serve the two finest kings… Lucis has ever known.”

“And I am honored to have fought at your side, marshal,” the King responded.

“Perhaps we’ll meet again… at daybreak.”

Noctis broke the potion flask, letting the magic-imbued liquid cure the Marshal’s wounds. After that, the three friends took Cor with them and accompanied him to a nearby refuge where he would wait, either for reinforcements, or until it was safe to return to the camp.

Returning to the Citadel, they saw that the _pet_ was dealt with, but the Wall still stood.

“Looks like there’s no way past the Wall…” said Prompto.

Something roared behind them. Turning around, they saw many daemons spawning and going in their direction. It would be a matter of minutes before they were cornered.

“There’s way too many of them,” Prompto yelled.

“And no way outta this, either,” Gladio admitted.

“Still…” said Noctis, looking at the monsters and readying his sword. “We can’t just give up now.”

He then felt something behind him.

Between them and the Citadel, a white-golden, humanoid form had appeared. When the glow diminished, they saw the white dress and the Trident of the Oracle.

“Luna?”

“Gods above,” her ghostly form intoned in a firm voice. “Hear my plea: lend the Chosen King your strength, that he might save our Star from darkness’ blight!”

“The lady’s words have reached the heavens,” said Gentiana, appearing at her side. “By the will of the Oracle and the grace of the gods, a path for the King is made.”

Gentiana disappeared in a flash of blue light. At that moment, lightning struck from above: Ramuh launched his power against the approaching daemons, striking them down until only ashes remained. A snowstorm hit the wall and froze it solid as Shiva’s avatars danced around the Citadel. Waves crashed against it as Leviathan coiled around the Wall and tried to crush it with a deafening roar. Cracks started appearing then and Titan, with a punch that shattered the ice out of it, weakened it even more.

They saw a giant creature flying overhead. It was Bahamut, whose armor glimmered in gold and azure and red. The dragon god invoked his swords, which formed a circle in the shape of a sun and, from that circle, a ray of light appeared, completely shattering the Wall.

Gladio was taken by the Six’s display, and Prompto described every detail to Ignis. Noctis, however, had his eyes fixed on Luna’s spirit. Blue sylleblossom petals fell around them, and she looked as radiant as she did that fateful day in Altissia.

“Luna… thank you,” he simply said.

“The fate of our Star rests with you now, my King,” she said with a bow and a smile.

He stepped forward, but checked himself. He knew she was an apparition, and would disappear as soon as he tried to touch her. It was she, this time, the one who walked towards him, her hand outstretched. He mirrored her gesture, but she was gone just as their fingers were about to touch, disappearing in a flash of golden light. Noctis opened his hand to see a single sylleblossom petal.

“Talk about divine intervention,” Gladio quipped.

“Feels good to know the gods are fighting on our side,” Prompto said.

“And the’ve entrusted the future to you, Noct,” Ignis pointed out.

“Yeah,” the King said, his resolve renewed. “Woulnd’t want to let ‘em down now.”

The ironworks door was unlocked. The plaza lain ahead.

“What kinda guy do you suppose the Founder King was?” Prompto mused all of a sudden.

“A rather special one, I assume,” said Ignis, who had studied the ancient scrolls. “He was the first on his line to be selected as the Crystal’s sworn protector.”

“Just think,” Gladio pointed out. “It could have been Ardyn atop that throne.”

“He and I may be born of the same blood, but I don’t care. That won't stop me from bringing him to justice.”

Despite the destruction of Insomnia, the Citadel was strangely intact. The lamps were lit and the plaza was devoid of any debris or any daemon.

Ardyn was waiting for them at the foot of the stairs.

“Ifrit, the Infernian,” he declaimed. “He doesn’t share the Glacian’s fondness for mankind. But you can expect a… warm welcome. I shall await you… above.”

Flames erupted around the plaza as Ardyn slowly climbed the stairs back to the Palace. A giant throne appeared where Ifrit, the Infernian, sat.

“Stay cool… he’s gonna bring the heat,” Noctis warned his friends.

They tried to approach the Infernian, but he raised his left hand, blackened with the Scourge, and fires appeared at their feet. Noctis was the only one who couldn’t dodge that attack and rolled down on the ground, trying to put off the fires on his vestments. He felt someone trying to help him by slapping the flames away.

“Stay down,” he heard Prompto. “We’ll keep him busy.”

He scrambled to his feet and limped away.

“Noct!” Ignis called for him. “Over here! Quickly, before he strikes again!”

His retainer beckoned him to take refuge behind some stone benches. He felt two hands grabbing his waist and dragging him: it was Gladio.

“Here it comes!” Prompto yelled, skidding to reach them.

Gladio covered them with his own body as a wave of infernal heat erupted above them. When it stopped, both Gladio and Prompto jumped out of the parapet and started attacking. Ignis broke a potion for Noctis, and his burns were sealed.

“Let’s go!” said Noctis.

“No room for error,” Ignis responded.

The flames licked and danced before the Infernian while he sat on the throne, but not even that could guard him from Noctis’ warping, Prompto’s guns, Ignis’ magic and Gladio’s sword. It came a moment when Ifrit stood up and grabbed his curved sword. Then a giant sword fell on the battlefield and Bahamut soared through the sky. The Draconian invoked his glaives, which fell on the battlefield, cleaving at the ground while Ifrit dodged them nimbly. Then Bahamut himself lunged at the Infernian.

As the two swords clashed, Noctis saw the opportunity and warped at Ifrit, slashing at him and cutting one of his horns.

The Infernian roared and covered himself in flames.

“So even that wasn’t enough?” Gladio said.

“It’s turned for the worse,” Ignis prepared his ice spells.

“Out of the frying pan, dot, dot, dot?” Prompto ran around, trying to stay away from the flames while he sought an opening to fire.

“We need to put this thing out!” Noctis yelled before warping again.

They kept attacking. Ifrit had become desperate at that point, despite his display of strength, leaving too many opening for them. Ignis’ magic ravaged his defenses, and Prompto’s nonstop attacks distracted him enough for Gladio and Noctis to pound at him.

Noctis’ head throbbed as he felt Gentiana’s voice, urging to summon her. He did so, and Shiva’s avatars appeared, dancing around the Infernian, and transforming into a blizzard which covered the entire plaza with snow and ice.

Ifrit ran towards Noctis and the remaining form of Shiva standing at his side, seeking to cleave at them both, but the storm slowed down his movements as frostbite covered his body. Shiva finally flew towards him and, with a final kiss, dissolved his form into snow dust.

_Rest, my love. May your soul know peace at last._

The Infernian gone, Noctis gathered his friends and discarded the pauldrons of his attire, burnt beyond recognition.

_King of Kings, the grace of the gods is with you always._

The words of Gentiana echoed in his mind. He was one step closer.

“I made a promise,” he said, looking at the stairs to the Palace. “One that I intend to keep.”

They treated their wounds and climbed the stairs. Opening the doors, they saw that the entrance hall was intact.

 _“That was a most impressive performance,”_ they heard Ardyn’s voice.

“You thought that was good? Wait ‘til you see what we’ve got in store for you,” Noctis threatened.

The doors closed behind them and the room was flooded with darkness.

 _“I’m giddy with anticipation! But I’m afraid you’ve one more Wall to break through first,”_ the room lighted up again, and they saw that a blue mist had invaded it. _“The Old Wall… the Kings of Yore.”_

A gigantic figure appeared before them. It was the Fierce, a king famed by his brutality in battle. He wielded a club, and no enemy could escape with his life.

_“Oh, what fun it will be to watch those I revile most tear each other apart.”_

**“Come forth, O chosen…”** the Fierce challenged, black mist oozing out of his armor.

“I thought the kings of old were on _our_ side!” Noctis said, dodging the club. “I don’t feel right fighting them.”

“Sorry to say, but I don’t think you have a choice,” said Gladio. “Let’s go!”

The Fierce let out a war cry and lunged at them. His gigantic club fell where they had been standing but a moment prior, and left a crater several feet deep.

“The three of us must keep Noct safe at all costs!” Ignis yelled, protecting his face from the shards of marble flying in every direction.

“Don’t worry about me!”

“You’re the whole reason we’re here,” said Gladio. “Just let us help!”

Noctis tried parrying the club’s swinging movement, but it knocked him back. He saved his falling by warping away from the statue’s reach. The Fierce was a powerful foe, but also a slow one. By warping in and out of his reach, Noctis could break his concentration enough for the others to wound it.

Gladio shouted a warning, but it was too late. Noctis had started a warp-strike at the same moment the Fierce had casted a spell of gravity. The King felt pulled into the spell area; it was brief, however, but enough to leave him exposed. He saw the club falling over him, but the next moment Gladio’s greatsword intercepted the blow. Noctis warped away, and let his friend get away from the Fierce as quickly as possible.

Now the statue had imbued his weapon with dark energy, and his attacks became dangerously faster. His whole armor glowed with dark energy, as miasma poured from every joint.

“He’s looking fiercer than before!” Prompto yelled.

“Let’s see if he finally starts living up to his name,” Gladio growled with a ferocious smile, readying himself for the onslaught.

The Fierce had turned himself into a whirlwind of darkness, destroying everything in his path. The friends had to dodge, not only the club each time the statue attacked them, but also the flying pieces of marble and wood from the destroyed columns and furniture.

Noctis kept up attacking and retreating, but suddenly, after he had delivered some hits, the Fierce wasn’t there anymore, and the King’s sword slashed in the air.

“Look out!” he heard Prompto yelling.

The warping ability was inherent in every king of Lucis, but the Fierce barely every used it, so proud he had always been of his raw prowess in battle. But now he faced a different foe, and he resorted to every resource he had at hand.

The Fierce had warped to the ceiling to then fall, wielding his club two-handed, towards Noctis. The young King rolled away but had to warp at the last second to avoid being crushed. The statue sunk the club on the floor even deeper than previous times, and Noctis used the split second it took the Fierce to free his weapon to warp-strike him back.

The statue staggered for the first time and swung his club towards Noctis, letting the weapon go all the way around him. The Fierce imbued his club with dark energy and grabbed it with both hands, letting the momentum carry him on a whirlwind attack. The four friends scattered as quickly as they could, waiting for their adversary to spend his energy.

Once the statue stopped, Noctis warp-struck it again, and this time the Fierce fell on his knees. Gladio gave a signal, and they all concentrated their strongest attacks on their rival. But he hadn’t earned his moniker for nothing. In a few moments, despite his wounds, he was on his feet again.

Noctis had no other choice: He summoned the Arminger, and commanded the weapons to attack the statue, as his friends also attacked with everything they had.

Now the Fierce was on his last legs, but still he used his remaining strength to deliver an overwhelming attack with his club towards Noctis, but Gladio, summoning his shield, parried it.

“I’ve served as your Shield through thick and thin,” he grunted to Noctis as he deflected the club. “No matter what, I’ve got your back… now and always!”

Summoning Cor’s old katana in place of the shield, he rushed ahead, cutting with both swords through the armor of the King of Old.

The Fierce fell to the ground and, as the miasma poured out of the armor’s joints, a voice boomed in the room.

 **“Forgive me… my mind was not my own…** ” the Fierce said, as his body disappeared in a flash of light.

Gladio also fell to his knees, trying to catch his breath.

“You okay?” Noctis asked him.

“Yeah…” he huffed with a wide grin. “This Shield’s a little sturdier than he looks. We’d better keep moving. C’mon.”

Despite Gladio’s protests, Noctis knew best and broke a potion for his friend.

The miasma in the hall had lifted, and they could proceed to the elevators. All of them were out of order, except for one: that which would lead them straight to the government wing. They took it, and ironized about Ardyn expecting company and keeping the whole Palace in pristine condition.

The expected to come out to a hallway but, instead, they saw themselves in a darkened room with columns surrounding what looked like a dimly lit arena.

 **“Welcome… O Chosen…”** a voice reverberated around them.

Ahead, in the middle of a circular space between two columns, a giant statue gave its back to the warriors. It turned slowly, and they saw that it was the statue of the Rogue, the Queen who governed from the shadows after both his father and brother perished, and until her heir was ready to take the throne. She had a graceful figure and, instead of a helmet, her face was covered in a porcelain mask, and her headdress simulated the horns of the Dragon God.

Unlike their previous rival, the Rogue used speed and illusions to confound her enemies, and wielded her giant shuriken with as much ease as a sword.

If with the Fierce they had to let him perform his attacks without approaching him, the Rogue couldn’t be left to move as she pleased, least she would vanish on thin air.

She had an astonishing speed, and when Gladio tried to slash at her with his sword, she warped out of sight, leaving behind a ghostly image which exploded in the Shield’s face.

“Where are you!” he roared, looking around them. “Show yourself!”

But from the shadows they could only heard her chuckling.

**“I see you…”**

Noctis heard those words being whispered in his ear, and before he could react, he felt a kick on his back which threw him to the ground. He rolled away instinctively and warped to one of the columns. Ignis, being nimbler than Gladio, could wound the Rogue with his spear, but she was too quick even for him.

Only Prompto could keep up with her once she reappeared. The gunslinger kept firing at her, almost never missing a shot, even as the Rogue moved around the “arena” as if she danced around the warriors.

His bullets began to have an effect on the combat, in that each time she tried targeting Gladio, the slowest of them, Prompto broke her concentration enough to let the Shield dodge most of the times. But the rest of times Gladio had to parry her attacks and a few times her shuriken drew blood from him.

Because his extraordinary resistance, Gladio didn’t notice that her weapon was laced with poison, until he tried parrying again and the world swam before him. Noctis warp-struck her and yelled a command to Ignis, but Gladio’s hearing had become muffled as his knees hit the floor. He felt, as if through a very thick fabric, a hand cupping his face and making him drink something. It burnt his insides, but soon he could see and hear again.

“Poison,” said Ignis, while Noctis kept her occupied. “Best to avoid her blades.”

“Yeah, easy thing.”

They heard Noctis cursing: The rogue had made herself invisible.

“Over there!” Prompto screamed.

Noctis dodged just in time before the Rogue could ambush him. He used the same trick as with the Fierce, to warp in and out of her reach before she could react, but this time timing was essential.

Between Ignis and Noctis, with Prompto in the distance, they could keep her busy enough to prevent her from disappearing, with Gladio happily lending a hand now that his friends kept her engaged. Nevertheless, a single, slightly out of sync movement let her enough time to flee to the shadows. From there, her shuriken flew, tracing deadly paths between them.

“Where’d she go?” Gladio grunted.

But his sword was already spinning, slashing at the Rogue at the very moment she was about to stab him in the back. She recoiled, staggering, and prepared to flee, when Noctis and Ignis struck her in a combined attack.

The Rogue growled, as a purplish light began to emanate from her armor. She stopped warping away from the battle area, but her attacks became stronger and more vicious, targeting Prompto this time.

The gunslinger was waiting for her, though, and switched her pistols for his machinegun. Bullets seemed to affect her more than blades, but she still pushed on to slash at Prompto, who dodged her attacks with ease. Noctis kept warping and attacking her, even when she started fleeing again to the darkness.

“You can’t fool me!” Prompto yelled, shooting at the darkness.

His bullets found their target, because the other three hear the sound of metal and the Rogue grunting with each salvo.

She came out of hiding again, brandishing her shuriken, with a reckless fury born out of her rage at being outwitted by that small human.

Prompto’s aim never faltered. As soon as he saw her coming out of the surrounding darkness, he switched to a flare gun and fired above them. The flash of light in the dimly-lit battle ground made her wince and stop on her track for a moment. She took but a moment to recover, but it was enough for Prompto to charge against her.

Cartwheeling, he kicked the shuriken out of her hand.

“I owe Noct everything…”

The weapon spun in the air and fell on his hand.

“…for standing by me always.”

With a dexterous swept of his arm, he threw the weapon at the Rogue, stabbing her in the chest. While the statue reeled, trying to regain her footing when she pulled her weapon out of her body, Prompto summoned his pistols.

“And now… it’s my turn to stand by him!”

Swift as lightning, he aimed and shot three times, each one hitting the wound on her chest, and each one causing an explosion of dark magic and miasma.

The graceful form of the Rogue fell to the ground, defeated, and the four friends were engulfed by a white light. When it dissipated, they were no longer in that strange space, but in the corridor outside the elevator.

**“Go forth, Chosen King… Restore the Light…”**

Such were the words they heard fading away, as if the wind was already taking them with it.

Gladio slumped against one of the walls while Prompto knelt, trying to regain his breath.

“Take it easy,” Noctis told his blond friend.

“What kind of friend would I be if I _took it easy_ when you’re in trouble?” he answered with a smirk. “I’ll be fine. Let’s keep moving.”

However, Noctis insisted on resting a few minutes. During that time, both he and Ignis scanned the nearby corridors in search of any daemonic presence.

“Seems like he keeps the Palace clear of any daemon,” Ignis commented.

“Heh, the bastard fills the world with daemons but won’t allow them at home,” Gladio huffed.

“Let’s go and give him what he deserves,” said Noctis.

Following the corridors, they realized that Ardyn had traced a path for them, sealing all the doors they weren’t supposed to cross and only opening the ones which, as Noctis remembered, led to the throne room.

Noctis felt a pang, remembering how he used to run along those corridors when he was a child, always under Ignis’ watchful eye.

They would reach the antechamber for the Throne Room after the last turn to the left. The young King remembered that place with mixed feelings. The paintings adorning the walls had always fascinated him as a child. Eos’ mythology had been something obscure and mysterious to his young, impressionable mind. It hadn’t been until he traveled to Tenebrae that Luna taught him what he needed to know.

His father never talked about the paintings, not even after Noctis’ ordeal and healing; not even when the child held the copy of the Cosmogony book open before him, and pointed out to his father the similarities between the writings and the images hung at that room.

And there were times, late at night, when King Regis, thinking himself alone, would spend a long time standing before a particular painting, the one depicting the coming of the Chosen One. Noctis knew of that habit but never asked, being already too old to be mystified by the old myths, but one day his curiosity got the better of him and he snuck into the room.

His father stood like a statue before the picture, shedding silent tears and murmuring something. Noctis felt so disconcerted when he saw his father like that. Regis had always shown a benevolent and jolly disposition before his son, save for the times when he had to be stern. Seeing him openly crying was more than unsettling for his son, who could only picture his father with nothing less than a good-natured expression.

After a while, Regis wiped away his tears and went back to his room. Noctis didn’t move from his hiding place until he heard the heavy doors closing, and went to examine the painting. There was nothing terrible or sad about it: Four men, one of them receiving a blessing from a winged female figure while the Gods stood watching and keeping the daemons at bay.

Now, more than ten years later, Noctis thought he understood why his father cried that night, why he refused to discuss anything concerning the Cosmogony, and why his expression became melancholic each time his son asked about it all.

After his long sleep, Noctis was sure that the Crystal had revealed his father all the truth before it all began. It was a thought that wouldn’t leave him, that his father had been bound by Destiny, unable to reveal anything to anyone, not even his own son. Because Noctis knew that, had he known the truth, he would have rebelled, maybe ruining any opportunity the world against the Scourge.

Their steps resonated through the long hall of black marble. Noctis’ heart raced. With each step he was closer to his destiny, but his only concern was not to fail, for his friends, and for those who had died so he could be there at the Palace at that moment.

The heavy doors to the antechamber opened. There was another giant armor waiting for them there. Noctis readied his sword in an instant, recognizing the armor as that of Somnus, the Founder King.

Noctis frowned and doubted for a moment, though, when he noticed the jerking movements of Somnus. Dark energy oozed from his armor, as with his companions before; this time, however, the Founder King seemed to be the only one to retain a faint sense of self which tried to resist the Scourge.

The armor glowed with a purplish color as the Founder King roared and charged towards them. The slashes from his sword were strong enough to send Gladio tumbling backwards when he tried parrying.

“This one’s more powerful than the last!” Ignis warned.

“Then I guess we’re in for one hell of a fight,” Noctis snarled as he dodged the blade.

The young King had to calculate his own movements very carefully. The Founder King, despite not being as powerful as the Fierce, and not as swift as the Rogue, had been in life a graceful swordsman and a dexterous magic user. The Scourge only amplified those traits, making him the deadliest of the Kings of Yore.

Ignis issued instructions when he had compiled enough information about Somnus’ fighting style. They all attacked at the same time, not giving the statue neither time nor room to warp out of their reach. They could wear him down until the armor glowed more intensely. Noctis jumped backwards, and warned the others to do the same.

There was an explosion of dark energy which threw them backwards. Somnus’ sword traced a circle over the founder King’s head, and he let it fall like a hammer over Noctis. The young King parried with his own sword, but he gasped when the blow made his shoulders feel as if they were being torn down.

Prompto shoot a flare towards the statue’s back; its flash distracted Somnus for a moment, enough for Ignis to pass a potion to Noctis, who felt his hands suddenly losing strength. Gladio joined the fray as soon as the statue lowered his guard, and both Noctis and Ignis attacked when Somnus defended himself from Gladio’s onslaught.

The Founder King spin on his heels, bringing his blade in a circle, and advanced like a whirlwind, much like the Fierce had done earlier. Noctis dodged the first wave, but the second time the blade slashed him across his back. Wincing, he warped towards one of the columns to regain his energy, to then warp-strike as their adversary was occupied with Gladio and Ignis. Noctis slashed furiously at the armor before warping away at a safe distance, where Prompto stood, still firing his machinegun.

Ignis followed suit, yelling at Gladio that they had to regroup. The Mystic didn’t follow them immediately, though, and when Ignis opened a potion to heal Noctis, the young King saw that their adversary was losing strength.

The next assault was more ruthless, with Somnus using dark magic to power up his attacks and cast spells. The four friends used the same strategy of causing a distraction and then attacking all at the same time, but it was being less and less effective the more the battle dragged on.

Noctis felt his mental strength draining, and Ignis sense it too. Thankfully, the long battle had served him to obtain enough data about their enemy’s weak points.

“Leave this to me!” the retainer told the King, before the later could warp one last time.

Ignis could not see, but could sense movement and hear it. From what he had studied about the Mystic, and his current combat experience, Ignis knew that the Founder King had been a much disciplined warrior in life, and that such habit carried on in death, and that also meant that his movements could be predicted.

He prepared a multi-spell grenade, waited for the exact moment when their enemy lifted his sword, and threw it. The projectiles hit several points in the armor, that Ignis was sure were key points. Somnus grunted and doubled down, kneeling. The retainer then imbued his daggers with fire magic, and joined his companions in a combined attack, but this time, when the magic in the daggers waned, Ignis switched to his lance and jumped, cleaving the spear on the armor in the fall.

Somnus focused on him.

“I will see that nothing stands in Noct’s way!” Ignis declared, a magic grenade in his hand.

The Founder King lifted his blade with both hands. Ignis sidestepped the first slash, and the second, and before the giant blade went for a thrust, the retainer threw his grenade, which hit the statue square in the chest.

“And I will do whatever it takes… no matter the cost!”

Somnus recoiled, visibly weakened, but wielded his blade again and slashed downguards. Ignis, spear in hand, was quick as a viper, and used the brief opening the Mystic had offered to stab at the armor several times.

The founder King knelt, seemingly in defeat. His armor glowed more strongly as he got up. With a scream, he slashed at the air around him, and the blade caused a wave of light to engulf the whole room.

When they could open their eyes, the walls had disappeared, and what remained of the room was surrounded by a vortex of magic energy.

“Brace yourselves!” Ignis yelled.

In that place, the Founder King had renewed energies, and this time his focus was on Ignis.

The retainer dodged each attack with ease, but this time Somnus paired his magic with his blade.

Ignis still could detect the weak points on the Founder King’s armor, and exploited them as much as he could.

The fight became desperate for both sides. Somnus seemed to be losing energy once more after Noctis warp-struck him, but he recovered and charged towards the young King, brandishing his blade with both hands.

“Not on my watch!” Gladio screamed, rushing to parry the Mystic’s blade with his shield. This time the blow didn’t make him budge, and he knew Somnus was at the end of his tether.

With a push, Gladio shoved the blade away. From behind him, Prompto used the shield as cover to shoot a salvo, hitting in the exact same points Ignis had targeted.

The retainer ran towards Gladio, who waited for him to jump on his hands, propelling his friends upwards with all his strength. Ignis summoned his spear while on the air, stabbing Somnus in the chest as he fell, and jumping back and away.

“Go, Noct!” he yelled.

Noctis warp-struck the Mystic four times, finally defeating the Mystic, the most powerful of the Kings of Yore. The armor knelt, defeated.

“Hate to break it to you,” Noctis said. “But you’re outnumbered.”

The illusion was broken, and they were in the antechamber again.

 **“You have done well…”** the Mystic said, as his body disappeared in a flash of blue light, now free from the Scourge. **“Hear me, Chosen King. The time had come to fulfill your calling and dispel the darkness from our world. Go forth. Restore the Light… and free my brother from his curse.”**

Noctis slowed down his breathing. Ardyn would be the last obstacle.

“I hope we can do it,” Prompto murmured.

“With you guys at my side…” Noctis said, turning around to look at his friends. “I know I will be ready for anything.”

**xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx**

They didn’t enter the throne room immediately. The Citadel was devoid of any daemons, ironically, and the four friends spent some time in the antechamber, resting and treating their wounds.

Noctis stood before the Savior’s mural one last time, as his father had done so many years back, and mused aloud what could have been like for Ardyn to spend an eternity alone. In his heart, he remembered the remarks that man had thrown at him while they played cat and mouse at Zegnautus Keep.

_It must be great having friends._

What had really happened to Ardyn? Did the whole world turn on him all of a sudden? Or, was it like a destructive madman who denounces the ones locking him up as unfair?

 _“I’m the only one who can deliver him from his misery,”_ Noctis thought, not without pity.

Prompto called for them: he had discovered a small graffiti on one of the paintings. The King felt his cheeks reddening, but Ignis chuckled gently, remembering a young Prince who took to himself to “enhance” the grim paintings with his crayons, and the retainer who had to try and fix it afterwards.

When they were well rested, they gathered one last time before confronting Ardyn. Noctis, all of a sudden, asked Prompto for one of the photos, to take it with him.

Understanding his intentions, his friend lent him the stack. Shuffling through them brought many memories to him, both pleasant and uncomfortable. And some of them strengthened his resolve to end the Scourge once and for all.

Choosing one was very difficult, since each one of them symbolized a moment he didn’t want to forget, but in the end he picked the family photo they took at Cape Caem, before they set sail to Altissia, and before the whole world plunged into chaos.

Smiling, he caressed the picture. He had no doubt that both Iris and Talcott would help build a world where everyone could be happy.

That was enough for him.


	44. The Cure for Insomnia

**BOOK 2: THE TALE OF THE CHOSEN KING**

**CHAPTER 32 – THE CURE FOR INSOMNIA**

The throne room hadn’t been kept in the same pristine condition as the rest of the building. The left wall had been demolished and the debris blocked the stairs leading to the throne on that side. However, the scene Ardyn had prepared for Noctis hung from the ceiling: Four corpses had been chained as puppets. Noctis knew they weren’t real, but seeing his father, Luna, the emperor a Glaive; seeing them desecrated like that made his blood boil.

The Crystal hung above the throne, held in place with the chains the empire had used to secure it back at Gralea.

“I’m afraid you’re out of luck,” Ardyn purred, sitting at the throne. “The throne brings you here? It seats only one.”

“Out of my chair, jester,” Noctis growled. “The king sits there.”

Ardyn’s expression changed as he got up.

“Oh, Noct…” his face contorted for a moment in a grimace of disgust, to then change into his signature half-smile. “How I have waited for this. Longer than you could ever know. Tonight, the dreams of the blood royal… come to an end.”

“Spite’s all that’s kept his going,” Gladio whispered.

“Talk about a grudge,” Prompto quipped.

“Ardyn sits on the throne?” Ignis asked.

“Not for long,” the King promised. “This is my ascension.”

Without warning, Ardyn shoot a dark spell. The dark projectiles flew past Noctis and hit his friends. The three men collapsed on the floor.

“What did you do?” Noctis yelled, rushing to check on his friends’ pulse.

“They have no place in this, the battle of kings!” the Chancellor said, standing at the broken wall. “Come, Noctis!”

He disappeared, but Noctis didn’t follow him until he was sure that his friends were merely unconscious and not dead. As he climbed the stairs, the desecrated corpses disappeared in clouds of black mist. Just a trick of the mind.

“It ends here…”

He looked over the edge of the wall to see Insomnia. The fires had died out as soon as Ifrit had been defeated, but a deadly silence hung in the air. There was no sign of daemons anywhere, as if Ardyn had ordered them all away.

Noctis spied Ardyn’s figure just outside of the Citadel, at the plaza where they had fought against the Cerberus. He summoned his sword and warped.

Ardyn stood waiting for him, smiling. Always smiling.

“The once helpless and hapless prince. Is he now ready to claim his crown?” he jeered, summoning his own sword, a mirror image of Somnus’ blade. “Don’t let us down.”

The two men warped towards each other and clashed their blades. For an instant they held a power struggle, until their magic repelled their bodies, sending them crashing into buildings each side of the main road. As crystal exploded and fell over them, they regained their footing at the tarmac and readied their next attacks.

“Let the games… begin,” Ardyn growled.

“No. Now they end.”

They fought with warping abilities and magic, each one testing the strength of the other, trying to find an opening.

Noctis saw that Ardyn’s fighting style was similar to Somnus’, yet there was a chaotic element that had nothing to do with the Scourge. Surely Ardyn had studied the basics when he was younger, to then develop a fighting style of his own. That made him unpredictable and dangerous, for he mingled swordsmanship with hand to hand combat with an astounding ease.

After Noctis parried a slash, Ardyn switched to a pair of twin swords, identical to those of the Wandered. The King warped away at some distance, not because his adversary had the upper hand, but out of surprise at seeing that man with the Royal Arms.

Ardyn grinned, seeing the horrified expression of the younger King. Then he summoned the Bow of the Clever, and shot at him.

Noctis summoned the Shield of the Just to deflect the projectiles, but felt his strength waning dangerously. When he willed the weapon away to switch to his own sword, Ardyn was already over him.

“So you are the Chosen King…” the Chancellor taunted him after Noctis dodged a kick. “But you are a second choice at best. The ten years you spent accumulating your power, I spent assimilating daemons and accumulating mine.”

Wanting to catch him with his guard down, Noctis warped to a street lamp and then warp-struck, using the twin kukris from Ulric. He landed several hits before Ardyn counter-attacked with a powerful blow with the hilt of his greatsword. Noctis fell backwards, the air knocked out of his lungs, but still he summoned his sword and warp-struck Ardyn, slashing with all his might at the man.

Many were the wounds he inflicted, but he noticed the black miasma oozing from the gashes, sealing them almost instantly. Despite the pain he surely suffered, Ardyn didn’t seem to lose his strength; he brandished his sword with both hands, and spun around, letting the weight of the blade carry him with its momentum. Noctis tried to dodge, but they were too close to what remained of a car, and he had no other choice but jumping and rolling over the rusty hood to the other side.

“Do you like what I’ve done with the world?” Ardyn laughed. “I twisted it all… just for you.”

Noctis threw what he thought was a fire grenade at the Chancellor. A lightning explosion went off on a wide area, and both men had to warp away from the area of effect of the spell. Disoriented, the King searched where Ardyn might be, but he only caught a reddish shadow moving in the distance as his adversary warped from one place to another.

He felt the rush of air behind him, and he spun around just in time to block a slash from Ardyn’s sword. His enemy warped away, and Noctis followed suit, trying to catch him in mid-air.

Ardyn went back to the ground, and the King warp-struck him with all his might. The Chancellor doubled down, and his body glowed with a purplish light.

Before Noctis could dodge, he was surrounded by miasma and dark energy. A twister of scourge and magic erupted form Ardyn’s feet, hitting Noctis with full force and throwing him in the air.

He felt the impact of his body on the tarmac. Through his blurry sight he saw Ardyn’s heavy footwear slowly approaching.

“A king in name alone,” through the ringing on his ears, Noctis heard Ardyn gloating. “I’m truly disappointed. Can’t you do any better than that? Ten years, and nothing to show for it!”

Noctis stumbled to his feet, yet Ardyn didn’t attack immediately. The Chancellor was playing with him.

“I was so very close,” Ardyn grinned. “So close to taking those friends of yours… then making them into daemons.”

The King bared his teeth. He knew his enemy was merely playing mind games with him, but he couldn’t contain his fury anymore. Roaring, he summoned the Trident of the Oracle and lunged at Ardyn. His adversary didn’t try to dodge this time, letting Noctis stab him.

“Ah, to see the hollow shell of a king…” his enemy purred. “With no one to protect.”

Noctis realized his error when Ardyn grabbed the Trident with both hands, which started to glow dangerously. The King willed away the weapon and warped at a safe distance.

“That’s how you survived all this time?” Noctis asked. “A parasite of parasites! I can only pity you.”

“Hah! Pity me,” Ardyn’s grin turned into a grimace of rage for an instant. “Aren’t you high and mighty now? Poor, pitiable, lonely me. But I have you to play with now.”

The Chancellor’s body began to glow again with dark energy, and Noctis warped even further from him. In the slip second it took him to travel the distance, Ardyn had disappeared.

In a rush of panic, Noctis looked around him, but he could only feel a shadow leaping at him, knocking him to the ground.

“Ah… My revenge is soon at hand…” Ardyn exulted, his face inches away from Noctis’. “How long have I waited?”

“Don’t worry,” Noctis said defiantly. “It’s far from over.”

“Well,” Ardyn hauled him up by the collar. “Let’s have it, then. You and your Crystal against all I have become.”

He pushed Noctis back and let him regain his footing. The King knew he had no other option, and resorted to his Arminger.

Ardyn grinned savagely, invoking his own Arminger, the Royal Arms floating around him with a reddish glow.

“Ahh, a king! At last!” he shouted in triumph.

Exactly as it happened when Leviathan destroyed Altissia, Noctis flew with the Royal Arms, continuing their fight in the air. This time the power wasn’t temporally borrowed: it was born out of him. The time he had spent in the Crystal had fortified his connection with the Arminger, and now he could unleash all its power.

The weapons clashed as the fighters tried to find an opening in the other’s defense. Noctis warped to mislead his enemy, but Ardyn had a keen eye and quick reflexes. The King had to retreat several times, when his attacks were met with a powerful counter-attack.

Noctis launched the Arms like he did against Leviathan; they exploded, breaking Ardyn’s barrier for a brief moment. That was enough for him to warp and slash at the Chancellor before the later warped away.

Their fight carried them beyond the walls of the Citadel and above its towers. Despite the Arminger's protection, Noctis felt his strength waning with each blow Ardyn delivered.

“Behold, O King,” Ardyn mocked him. “This realm in darkness. This land… of daemons.”

The King tried not to pay any attention.

_Too dark to see anything. It’s time I restore the Light._

Ardyn commanded his Arminger to launch an attack at Noctis. In that fraction of a second, Noctis warp-struck him, and then he used the same movement in a desperate, all-out attack.

With a last explosion, Ardyn fell from to the Citadel’s plaza. Noctis tried following him, but his own strength failed him and he also plummeted to the ground.

He felt darkness enveloping him. Shaking his head, he fought to stay awake. His arms trembled as he propped himself up, and he noticed it had begun to rain.

“A war… of attrition, then,” Noctis heard Ardyn panting, not very far from him.

The King used his father’s sword to support himself. Lifting his head, he saw the giant, ghostly figures of the Kings of Yore appearing around the Citadel’s walls.

“The Kings of Yore are on hand,” Ardyn proclaimed, his left hand raised. “Calling you forth… to oblivion.”

Noctis lunged at him. Ardyn parried with ease, but his energy was also diminishing. His wounds didn’t close as quickly as before, and he was starting to sound short of wind.

“Even where the dawn to break now, it will only bring the horrors to light. The truth only offers despair!” Ardyn declared fiercely as he shoved Noctis away.

“Yet the people will live on!”

“You know those kings will not protect you…” the Chancellor said, pointing at the ghostly visages.

“I know… I am the protector!”

Ardyn warped out of sight. Noctis parried his warp-strike regardless, and kicked the man in the stomach to put some distance between them.

“The Crystal uses you,” the Chancellor huffed, rubbing his stomach. “Drains you of life. It plays you all for fools.”

“I accept it… if it means driving out the darkness!”

Ardyn laughed. It was the laugh of a madman.

“You should all thank me! In the dark, you would know peace,” he said.

“I will drag you from that darkness. Out of solitude. Out of emptiness.”

“Will you?” Ardyn sneered.

“You are a slave to the dark. Until you are free, you suffer alone! Return as you were!”

“You think you know me…” Ardyn scoffed in disdain. “You fancy yourself benevolent and worthy. And yet when your father died… you… were off playing with your friends! When your beloved died… you lay watching, powerless to stop it! And now you dare speak down to me? You think ten years is a long time?! It is nothing to me! I have lived in darkness for ages!”

Ardyn lunged at him. His attacks had become stronger, as if he had regained his strength. His ferocity almost overwhelmed Noctis, who had to warp away several times before attempting an attack.

“Have you made your peace, king?” Ardyn roared. With each sentence his fury grew stronger, until he was sputtering and growling like a wild beast. “If darkness shall die, so shall you! Curse your kings, and your iniquitous Crystal! Vengeance was to at last be mine! If not for you. I hate you… with all my being!”

As devastating as he was now, Ardyn’s rage made him miscalculate his attacks. Noctis parried with difficulty but, when he saw an opening, he used all the royal weapons he had, one after the other. Ardyn tried defending himself with each counterpart of Noctis’ Arminger, but his might was spent. With each blow a cloud of mist left his body, until the King delivered the final blow with Regis’ sword, running Ardyn through the chest. An explosion of black mist and miasma came out of the wounds, as the same dark liquid trickled down his chin. Nevertheless, he smiled.

“So,” he murmured, looking down at the blade. “That, is how you would end it…”

Noctis pulled the sword out of the body. Finally defeated, Ardyn collapsed on the ground.

Satisfied, for they had seen the desired outcome, the Kings of Yore disappeared.

“Now it is over, Majesty,” Ardyn whispered, his eyes fixed on the cloudy sky. Black miasma poured out of his wounds and mingled with the rain. “What will you do? Banish the daemons and bring peace? Erase me from history once more?”

Noctis knelt at his side and looked at the man. He lay on his back, with many deep cuts staining his clothes with what should have been blood. Still, he showed no sign of pain; only his expression had changed: his harsh facial features, always set on a perpetual sneer, had softened. The end was near and he knew it, desired it in fact, but he wouldn’t have gone down without a fight.

Now his struggle had ended at last, and Noctis thought now he could see a hint of the man Ardyn was once.

As much devastation as his ancestor had sowed in the world, now the King couldn’t find in his heart to hate him. Like a flash, he suddenly remembered how Ardyn had taunted him in Gralea, so many years back, and how he had labored to strip the young King from everything he had: His family, his country and his friends. Part of Noctis wondered if Ardyn, out of pure spite, had wanted to repay onto the Chosen One what the world had inflicted on him, and he could only imagine the two long millennia of loneliness and bitterness.

Whatever had happened, whatever grief still gnawed at this man at his feet, Noctis would never know. The end was near, as the gods had ordained, and he wouldn’t delay the coming of the dawn.

“This time…” Noctis said. “You can rest in peace. Close your eyes… forevermore.”

Ardyn smiled, now looking at Noctis.

“I will await you… in the beyond.”

His words died out as his body dissolved, as a dissipating bonfire.

The howling of a daemon in the distance broke the silence in the Citadel.

Only one more thing to take care of.


	45. Dawn

**BOOK 2: THE TALE OF THE CHOSEN KING**

**CHAPTER 33 – DAWN**

The four friends stood under the persistent rain. Noctis had found them at the throne room, trying to shake away the effects of Ardyn’s spell. It had taken them a while to recover but, as soon as they could stand on their feet, they devised a plan to protect the Citadel.

Daemons, though created by Ardyn, had a will of their own, and detected the magic of the Crystal. There was a high risk that the beasts would intrude and interrupt the ritual, so Prompto, Ignis and Gladio would return to the plaza to protect the Citadel. Wishing to at least have a few farewell words with his friends, Noctis accompanied them to the palace stairs, where they had been sent off by King Regis ten years prior.

“So this is farewell,” said Ignis, turning to his friend at the foot of the stairs.

“Yeah. Here we are,” Noctis smiled at the three of them.

“It’s all you,” Gladio encouraged him.

The King nodded and, turning away, slowly ascended the stairs.

“No turning back now,” said Prompto, fighting back his tears.

Hearing those words, Noctis stopped and turned to them.

“Prompto. Gladio. Ignis,” he said, trying to burn in his memory the image of his best friends, the men who had helped and accompanied him during his long journey: His brothers. “I leave it to you. Walk tall… my friends.”

“Godspeed,” said Ignis. “And take care. Majesty.”

The three of them made the Lucian salute and bowed to their King.

“The time has come,” the King said, mirroring the salute and holding his head high.

As they watched their King and friend ascending the stairs, the three men could hear howling and screeching of daemons. Turning, they saw a swarm of the monsters at the gates, trying to break in, as they had expected.

Summoning their weapons, they readied themselves to fight.

**xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx**

The rain had stopped at some point while he rode the elevator to the throne room. The chamber was eerily silent, and no sound from the city reached that floor. Noctis knew that, at that very moment, his friends were fighting a battle at the plaza. Maybe a losing one.

With each step he took towards the throne, thoughts kept pressing against each other in his mind. The voice of self-preservation had been the strongest one when Bahamut had revealed his destiny as the Chosen, but Noctis had silenced it. Now it was just a murmur, repressed by the memories of everything Noctis had seen in the wake of Ardyn’s devastation. The suffering and the darkness had to end, once and for all.

It seemed like an eternity since he last saw his father sitting at the black marble throne, and even longer since Noctis himself sat at his father’s knees while the later told him stories of the ancient kings.

He caressed the throne’s arms, recalling the day he had discovered, with sinking despair, how the Wall was speeding his father’s aging and no one seemed to care. His younger self rebelled, furious that everyone only thought about politics and warfare, while he was losing his father, the only family he had ever known.

“I’m home,” he said. He had caught a shadow, out of the corner of his eye, which looked very similar to his father. “I walked tall… And though it took me a while, I’m ready now.”

Noctis took the photo he had borrowed from Prompto and left it on the right arm. Taking now his place at the throne, he fought to slow down his racing heart.

“I love you all. Luna, guys… Dad…”

The Ring shone, brighter than ever, as Noctis felt the presence, not only of his father, but also of all the other Kings.

Now he knew that shadow was his father but, for some reason, Regis had his back turned to him.

“The time we had together…” he said aloud. “I cherish.”

Now the Crystal, sensing the power of the Ring, shone above the throne with a blinding light. Looking up, the Chosen One called the Kings forth.

“Kings of Lucis, come to me!”

He summoned his father’s sword and cleaved it on the marble floor in front of him. He held fast onto the grip as the Royal Arms manifested around the throne. One by one, the ghost of the Kings of Yore appeared and took the glaives they wielded in life. Somnus, the Founder King, would be the first to stand before the Chosen One. His sword ready, he struck at Noctis, and both glaive and the King’s spirit entered the Ring.

All the kings repeated the ritual, until Noctis nearly lost his grip on the sword. His father’s ghost stood by the throne, not looking at his son, until all the other Kings had entered the Ring.

Feeling his life force slipping away, he remembered his friends and everyone he cared about one last time and, with trembling hands, he offered the sword that had nearly fallen from his hand to its rightful owner.

“Dad…” he said in a trembling, thin voice. “Trust in me…”

A flame erupted before Noctis and, from that flame, came an armored figure he had never seen. He felt his father’s presence in that armor and tried to look up, but the figure struck him before their eyes could meet.

With a last flash of light, the throne room became dark and silent once more.

The Ring, now sated with power, glowed in the cold hand of the King, his inert body impaled to the throne with his father’s sword, until an explosion of light engulfed all.

**xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx**

Noctis stood over a vortex of energy. That was the door to the Crystal, which served as barrier with the other world. That would be where he would find Ardyn, unable to cross that barrier due to his corruption, and damned to regenerate time and time again each time his body was destroyed.

Throwing the sword of his father to the vortex, he warped headlong to finally carry out his duty as King.

**xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx**

He stood in a space he was already familiar with: the inside of the Crystal, which lorded over the souls of the Lucis line. But this time there was a presence there.

Ardyn.

The man stood there, waiting, his expression again of mocking defiance as he offered him a jeering bow.

His perpetual smirk vanished, however, when he saw that Noctis wasn’t alone: The memory of his three friends had accompanied him into the Crystal, along with Regis’ spirit.

The Scourge began to rebel inside Ardyn, taking over his spirit as it had done with his body. Contorting in pain, Ardyn seemed to resist that influence, but the combined power of all the daemons he had absorbed finally overpowered him, and his whole body became a twisted abomination.

Noctis raised his hand with the Ring, and Ardyn (or what remained of him) mirrored him, invoking the power of darkness. A golden light appeared at his side, however, and two pale hands wrapped around his right arm. He tried to shake them away in fury, but Luna’s blessing had weakened him already. He snarled in frustration as the golden light of the purifying spell extended to the rest of his body, and saw in despair how the Ring shone with a blinding light.

The King screamed as the power of the Ring consumed his arm, burning him from the inside, and the Royal Arms slowly came out of his body.

Now free from the Ring, the Kings of the Lucis line took their weapons and, at a signal from Noctis, they all lunged towards Ardyn, whose soul was destroyed for good in a flash of light.

Spent, his soul nearly consumed by the power of the Ring, Noctis closed his eyes, and let Oblivion claim his soul, as he and the Ring dissolved into nothingness.

_It’s finally over…_

**xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx**

People all around the world marveled at the sunrise. Ten years of perpetual darkness had come to an end, as was promised.

The daemons and the Scourge disappeared with the new day, and the blessed rays of the sun shone over a world that had suffered much, had toiled much, but would resurface with renewed hopes.

Outside Insomnia, on a small hill overlooking the bay, three friends gathered the camping utensils they had used weeks prior. They did so in silence, knowing in their hearts that their friend had gone in peace, and that they still had much to do.

**xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx**

The warm rays of sunlight entered the throne room through the destroyed wall. White flowers were arranged along the aisle and on the balconies, as blue petals, scattered along the red carpet, signaled the path to the throne. Shards of the Crystal mingled with the falling sylleblossom petals in the empty chamber, white silk and red and golden banners with the Lucis’ crest adorned the walls, commemorating the ascension of King Noctis Lucis Caelum CXIV.

No one was present to see this scene, but if someone had been, they would have seen two ethereal figures atop the stairs: One, dressed in the modern full dress of the Lucian kings, sitting at the throne, the other, in a radiant wedding gown, sitting at its right. And, had they paid attention, they would have heard a voice which had been silenced ten years prior:

_Dearest Luna, you did well to deliver the Ring to Noctis. Wayward through my son may indeed be, he has made me proud. May you two know happiness._

King Noctis took the photograph he had left there before his sacrifice and showed it to Luna. She smiled, gazing at it, and then they shared a kiss.

Contented with being finally together, the two spirits bowed their heads and sunk into a deep sleep.

_**Fin** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends the story of Noctis Lucis Caelum. It’s been almost a year since I started publishing this story, plus another half a year of previous writing, and all the while I’ve kept editing the whole thing. It’s overwhelmingly bittersweet to say goodbye to the Chocobros and the Kingsglaive, at least in the canon story. As with the game, one cannot help but feel attached to these characters: their struggles, their joys and hopes and, believe or not, even their faults, which made them all the more human.
> 
> But this is not the end! There’s one more story to tell, that of the saint who was turned into the blight which plagued the world of Eos. Please, stay with us for one more tale.


	46. Prologue to Episode Ardyn

**APPENDIX: EPISODE ARDYN  
**

**PROLOGUE**

_Two thousand years before the reign of the Chosen King, the world had fallen into ruin due to the spread of monsters called_ daemons _. The nobles of House Caelum used their god-given powers to purge this scourge from the land, earning the people’s trust and spreading their influence throughout the realm._

_Other lords voiced their support for House Caelum to lead the realm, and the gods, too, sought to select a ruler from amongst those men. A sovereign to sit atop the throne of the world’s first kingdom._

_There were two candidates: One was ambitious, a charismatic leader, and the younger son of House Caelum: Somnus Lucis Caelum. The other was righteous, Somnus’ older brother who dedicated his life to his people: Ardyn Lucis Caelum._

_As the Oracle, Aera Mirus Fleuret, a Vessel for the voice of the gods, she patiently awaited their decision._

**xxxXX-0-XXxxx**

Dusk approached.

The village was busy preparing for the next day, boarding windows and doors, and locking animals for the night.

No one paid attention as the girl stepped into the boundaries of the village. She had been born there, after all, and was home before night arrived, and her wobbling gait might very well be due to tiredness after a long day of working in the fields. Nothing special.

No one noticed her tattered dress, her broken sandals, or the blackened skin of her neck, where a chunk of flesh was missing.

She approached a neighbor, who hefted a heavy sack and didn’t see her coming. They had known each other since the girl was very young, but now she didn’t recognize him anymore.

The girl bared her teeth and sunk them on the man’s shoulder, and a scream pierced the tranquil evening.

**xxxXX-0-XXxxx**

Banners of the House of Lucis fluttered in the wind. Long spears rose against the darkened sky while the soldiers stood to attention.

Night had fallen and they could barely see, but they could hear. A man staggered out of the black mist looming beyond the army, black miasma covering his body. The man disappeared in a black cloud, and a daemon rose in his place. Behind it, many more daemons screeched and howled, preparing their attack.

At a signal from Lord Somnus, the soldiers readied their lances and shields. Another signal, and they charged ahead.

The sun was high in the sky when they finished piling up the bodies, just outside the village. Lord Somnus gave the order to Gilgamesh, his right hand man, and their soldiers put the bodies to the fire.

**xxxXX-0-XXxxx**

The stench of burnt flesh was something he could never get used to. Daemons’ twisted limbs protruded from the mount, as well as human hands. That giant pyre had been his brother’s doing, that much he could guess, even if the villagers hadn’t told him yet.

So many innocent lives which could have been saved, now slaughtered mercilessly.

Closing his eyes, Ardyn walked to the ruins of a humble village.

“Are you unwell, Lord Caelum?” asked the old man guiding him.

“Tis nothing,” he said, realizing that he had turned many times along the way to look at the burnt bodies.

Walking into the ruins, Ardyn saw that, whatever hadn’t been damaged by the daemons had been torn apart by Somnus’ soldiers.

“You know,” said the old man. “Your dear brother did unspeakable things. He rounded up those afflicted by the Starscourge, even those he merely suspected of infection, and burned them all alive.”

The house they walked into wasn’t as damaged as the rest. A middle-aged couple waited at the door, their faces ashen with worry and fear. Their daughter was inside, they said.

“Lord Caelum!” the mother implored. “Please, you must save my daughter!”

“But of course,” he said, stepping into the house.

Laying on a bed, her hands and feet strapped, the girl writhed and snarled like a wild beast. Her blackened skin glistened in the scarce light that filtered through the cracks on the ceiling, her maddened eyes now black and golden.

He sat at her bedside, ignoring her growls, and extended his right hand. The Scourge left her body like a black mist and went to his hand. She was cured, and fell asleep immediately.

Another life saved.

Pain shot from his hand to his neck, and he saw his skin turning black. The more people he saved, the worse his infection grew.

“Lord Caelum?”

He hurriedly put his hood back to cover his face from the door.

“She’s all better now,” he hurriedly said.

“Oh, thank the gods.”

“And thank YOU, milord!”

“Blessed be this day. It’s a miracle!”

**xxxXX-0-XXxxx**

“The Starscourge is a disease,” he told them. “With the proper treatment, anyone can be spared.”

Those who had been spared by Somnus had gathered around him, under the shade of a tree, to listen to his words. The survivors had their submission written on their faces, their tunics still dirty with mud and shoot.

“We must not condemn our fellow man and exile them as if they were monsters.”

“But even with your curative powers, surely you can’t save everyone,” spoke the old man who had guided him there.

“Then we send the rest to the flames,” said a young man beside him.

“Hey! You watch your tongue,” said a third man.

“Why should I?”

“Imagine if Somnus had burned YOUR family alive!”

“Then what do you propose!?”

“Such insolence!” said a woman.

“There’s nothing we can do!”

“Lord Caelum,” the old man’s voice, though quiet, silenced argument. “You are our one true king.”

“He’s right!” said the man who had spoken first.

“You’re our only hope!” said another person.

“I’ve no desire to sit on the throne,” Ardyn said. “But if it means the Scourge would be purged and that countless lives would be saved, then I will gladly be your king.”

**xxxXX-0-XXxxx**

“It wasn’t easy, you know?” said Aera indignantly. “Fleeing the castle and coming all the way here to see you. A word of thanks is in order!”

Traveling always made her testy, that he knew well. He also knew how to smooth out her temper.

“I’m ineffably grateful, Aera,” he said, smiling. “And I hope you, too, are grateful for those who so kindly escorted you here.”

He was referring to the servants, the cart driver and her lady-in-waiting, who bowed at him.

“Grateful for spending more time with me than a certain fiancé of mine…” she pouted.

“Do forgive me.”

Blushing, she huffed in frustration. There was no way she could scold that man without feeling bad while doing so. But that humble heart of his was what had made fall in love with him.

To compensate for his absence, and knowing that she loved learning about the previous civilization, Ardyn offered to show her around the ruins of the ancient temple nearby.

“This place is incredible,” she marveled. “How old do you think these ruins are?”

“I haven’t the slightest.”

They walked through deserted corridors and under strange statues and depictions of alien rituals.

“Neither who made them, nor when nor why. Whether they faded away on their own or were erased from the annals of history. Their creator’s name remains a mystery to all.”

They could see daylight at the end of a long hallway, which died on a platform overlooking a waterfall. Aera ran ahead to see it. It was a stunning view, one Ardyn was sure she would enjoy.

Seeing her in a more cheerful mood put his heart at ease. Especially after that long day, he needed to see her happy.

“You needn’t worry,” she said all of a sudden, her blue eyes fixed on him, her soft lips smiling. “Even if others forget your name, I will always remember you.”

**xxxXX-0-XXxxx**

Ardyn saw the cart disappearing in the distance as the storm approached. He, too, should seek shelter for the night.

A fit of coughing shook him. The Scourge was ravaging his body, slowly, but at a steady pace. Regardless, he couldn’t stop now, there were too many people suffering.

“There he is!” a voice shouted behind him.

Other voices joined the first as Ardyn ran for the forest. Soldiers, judging by the clanging of metal as the men pursued him. His brother had decided he didn’t want to wait until the gods spoke.

Panic made him run blindly downhill, until his sandal got caught in a root and he fell, rolling, into a ditch. That misled the soldiers, who continued down the path and far from him.

However, as every time his emotions went out of control, he felt the Scourge acting up inside him, trying to take over his body. He resisted, screaming in pain until he blacked out under the rain.

**xxxXX-0-XXxxx**

“By your leave, milord,” said the soldier, bowing before leaving.

Somnus left the chess piece on the table with a sigh.

“You heard the man: we lost him,” he smirked at Gilgamesh, his faithful guard. “And to think he and his betrothed could have enjoyed a happy life free of conflict…”

He got up and paced to the window. The rain had stopped and now the moon shone upon the tower, atop which was the Crystal chapel. The Oracle was now praying there, in wait for the gods’ decision.

“No matter,” said Somnus. “The hour of the god’s decision is night.”

**xxxXX-0-XXxxx**

Inside the Crystal’s chapel, Aera prayed, deep in meditation as she waited for the gods’ revelation. She was alone on that room, for absolutely no one was allowed there while she was communing with the Crystal.

Night after night, she had prayed and waited while keeping her own desires away from her thoughts, but no decision had been made yet. That night, however, the Crystal shone with a blinding blue light which engulfed the whole chapel.

Aera gasped when she saw the shadow of the Dragon God, and then a face was revealed to her in the Crystal.

The decision had been made.

She heard a commotion outside, and her maid screamed.

“Stop, Lord Caelum! The ritual is already underway. None must interfere!”

The door opened with a bang.

She saw him stepping confidently into the chapel, his dark robe wrapped neatly around him, his black hair, his piercing blue eyes, that roguish smile which could get anything from anyone, be it a noble, a general, or a maiden. Everyone at the palace and the high houses hailed him. Every soldier would die for him. But Aera could see what no one else could, or would.

Harsh, stubborn and ruthless. That was how Aera saw Somnus. Someone who wanted something and took it, no matter how much pain and suffering he left on his wake.

**xxxXX-0-XXxxx**

She stood amongst the garden of white sylleblossoms she liked to tend every day, giving her back to Somnus, who casually leaned against a column. He had followed her all the way to the garden, but she still hadn’t deigned to say a single word. No matter which one of Somnus’ usual excuses might be this time, answering his questions inside the chapel would be equivalent to endorse his disrespectful attitude

“Hail, Oracle,” he said, as if they had just met that morning. “What say the gods?”

Silence.

“The Crystal, then?”

“The Crystal has no will of its own,” she replied tersely.

“Nothing, then?”

“Very well,” she said at last. “If you desire it, Somnus, you shall have my trust, and their decision.”

**xxxXX-0-XXxxx**

“We feared the worst, milord!” said the old man from the village. “You hadn’t returned by dusk, and with that torrential downpour…”

Ardyn put some coins on the table by the now empty plate and cup, and thanked them for their hospitality. They had found him, unconscious, in the forest, hauled him all the way to the village, and took care of him until he woke up. It was only fair that he paid them for the bed and the food.

“Lord Caelum!” called a young man through the hole in the wall.

Soldiers had come for him. The villagers wanted to hide him, but he refused. Knowing his brother, he would tear down every last brick searching for him or, worse, he would kill the villagers until one of them gave him away.

He walked towards the soldiers with determined steps but, instead of detaining him, they all knelt. But he could see in his faces that they didn’t do it willingly.

“Last night,” said their captain. “The word of the gods was heard. Ardyn Lucis Caelum, you have been chosen to serve as king!”

The small crowd of villagers erupted in cheers behind him.

He simply sighed, steeling himself for his duty.

**xxxXX-0-XXxxx**

The chapel was crowded with representatives from all the noble houses in Lucis. He walked to the stairs that led to the Crystal, his traveling clothes discarded in favor of his courtly robes. Nevertheless, he could feel the piercing glances from some of the nobles: the ones who wanted Somnus to ascend, and also the ones who sat contentedly inside their great halls, safe from the illness that ravaged the land, not caring about what happened outside their walls.

But for now Ardyn’s green eyes were fixed on Aera, who waited for him by the throne at the top of the stairs. Above it sat the Crystal, faintly glowing with a bluish light.

Somnus, always dressed in dark colors, knelt as he walked by, but his bodyguard was nowhere to be seen.

“It was me, brother,” Somnus said in a loud voice.

Then Somnus’ voice rose even more as he got up and addressed the crowd.

“It was me! I was chosen by the gods!”

Aera tried to intervene, but Gilgamesh, who had been lurking near, raised his clawed gauntlet before her.

“Do forgive me for deceiving you all like this,” Somnus pleaded to the crowd. “However, it was necessary in order to lure the seditious traitor here today! What a miserable man. Did you really covet my throne that badly?”

And excited murmur erupted in the chapel amongst the crowd. Ardyn turned to his brother, ignoring the leering glances from the nobles who drank Somnus’ words

“You…”

“The gods have spoken,” Somnus said in that theatrical tone he always used when addressing the nobles and the army.

His hand moved, summoning his sword from thin air. That was the power the gods had bestowed the Lucis line with, to help with their war against the daemons. But that day it would be used against each other.

“And I, Somnus Lucis Caelum, am king!” he declared.

“And what if I object, Brother?”

That was the cue Somnus seemed to have been waiting for. Lips curling into a cruel smile, he lunged towards his older brother, who parried his attack with his own sword, twin to the one Somnus wielded.

Even if Somnus was a renowned fencer, Ardyn had spent many months in the wilderness, fighting beasts and daemons alike, while Somnus had only practiced against humans. The older brother’s strength got the upper hand in the first assault, and Somnus’ sword broke in two.

“I will not take your life,” Ardyn said. “So long as you renounce your na-”

He coughed, doubling up. Somnus summoned his sword again and attacked. He thought that his older brother would be weakened, but Ardyn was a powerful man, only restrained by his unwillingness to take his younger brother’s life.

Ardyn knew the gods had chosen him to save lives, not to take them, and he desperately tried to overpower his younger brother without killing him. Somnus had always been very stubborn, and that trait had only been exacerbated since the gods declared that one of them would the sole heir to the throne. However, Ardyn had always harbored hope on his brother finally seeing reason.

Blow after blow rained on Somnus, who in the end could only parry as Ardyn cornered him. With a last, powerful slash, Ardyn sent Somnus flying. As the younger brother tumbled he summoned a spear and launched it at Ardyn, who grabbed it before it pierced him through the heart.

Somnus warped, his momentum landing the mortal blow to his brother.

Ardyn staggered back, holding onto the spear. He wouldn’t die, that he knew, even if the spear had pierced his heart. His wound would close on its own accord and he could keep fighting.

Something white moved into his range of vision.

The sound of steel cutting through flesh.

Aera’s scream.

He yanked the spear out of his body, throwing it aside.

Aera lain in a pool of her own blood. He cradled her, not hearing the screams from the crowd.

“Ardyn…” she weakly whispered. Her blue eyes became cloudy as life escape from her.

“Aera! Don’t worry. I’m going to…”

A white clad hand caressed his cheek. She smiled, and her blue eyes closed as she drew her last breath.

He could do nothing to save her. Long ago, he had the power to close wounds and revive the fallen but, as he also healed the Scourge, his other curative powers waned until they were a memory.

She was growing cold in his arms, blood staining her white dress and his robes. Her heart slowed, until he could sense it no more.

Ardyn wept, calling her name but, because he was giving his back to his brother and the crowd, no one could see his tears turning into black miasma.

“Foolish woman,” Somnus sneered before raising his sword on both hands for the final slash. “Forgive me, Brother, but I must fulfill my kingly calling.”

There was an explosion of black mist from Ardyn’s body. He turned around and howled, the black cloud swirling around him, his skin as white as a corpse’s, and miasma oozing from his mouth and his black and golden eyes.

The crowd ran away from the chapel, screaming, and leaving the two brothers and Gilgamesh alone.

“He’s become the monster I made him out to be…” Somnus murmured as he advanced, sword in hand.

Gilgamesh slashed at Ardyn, as did Somnus. The wounds closed immediately, though, and Ardyn turned to the Crystal.

With Aera’s corpse in his arms, he slowly ascended the stairs to the throne.

Somnus and Gilgamesh slashed at him time and time again, but Ardyn kept walking, leaving behind a trail of blood and miasma.

_“My people… must know…”_

In his delirious mind, the chapel had disappeared, and now he was walking through red sylleblossoms, leaving a field of wheat behind.

“Answer me… O gods above…” he whispered when he stood atop the throne, about to reach the Crystal. “Who is… your True King?”

His hand rested but an instant on the blue surface, and there was an explosion of light which threw him and Aera down the stairs.

He had been rejected by the Crystal.

“So that is your answer… I am unworthy…”

Something black blocked his view of the Crystal. His brother stood in front of him, sword in hand.

Without a word, Somnus impaled Ardyn with his blade.

The explosion of black mist in the tower could be seen from many miles away.

Somnus stood beside his older brother in silence. He looked up, however, when the rays of the sunrise touched his skin.

It was the dawn of a new era.


	47. Darkness Awakens

**APPENDIX: EPISODE ARDYN**

**CHAPTER 1 – DARKNESS AWAKENS**

_Cursed to live as an immortal monster, Ardyn was dubbed_ Adaguim _, and imprisoned on the isle of Angelgard, where his enmity for the royal family grew stronger with each passing year…_

 _Yet in all accounts of Lucian history, the name_ Ardyn Lucis Caelum _is nowhere to be found._

**xxxXX-0-XXxxx**

A warm breeze shook the wheat field in that pleasant summer afternoon.

“Oh, Ardyn,” Aera laughed. “You can’t expect me to believe that!”

“Oh, but I do! You have my word.”

She laughed, her whole body shaking with the motion. He lay with his head on her lap, looking up at her face. The light filtering through the tree’s leaves made her golden hair shine like a halo. Then he closed his eyes, basking in the feeling of her delicate fingers playing with his overgrown mane.

“Well, in _that_ case…” she giggled.

Ardyn sighed, contended and at peace.

“You look exhausted, my love,” he heard her saying. “Are you all right?”

“I am,” he said, sitting up and looking at her. “The gods blessed me with a power and a purpose: to cure people of what ails them. I must see their will be done.”

“Your devotion shall not go unnoticed. The gods will doubtless be watching over you,” she smiled, leaning closer. “Just as I shall be watching over you every step of the way.”

Then she straightened her back. How beautiful she looked that day.

“It seems to me the cure for your exhaustion is comprised of two things, one of which is rest.”

“Oh? And the other…?” he asked playfully, gazing into her dark-blue eyes.

She blushed, lowering her head a bit.

“The other is me.”

They laughed together. Then he took her in his arms and kissed her, burying his fingers in her hair. There was nothing in the world Ardyn loved more than feeling her soft lips, and the warmth of her body against his.

“Oh, Aera,” he whispered in her lips. “Pray be with me always.”

A bang made him open his eyes with a jolt.

Then the grating of rock against rock resonated in the cavern. How much time had passed since that door had been blocked? Days? Years? It was hard to tell in that dark cell. But it was unmistakable, the sound of people at the other side, laboring to retire the rock. It came through muffled, but it was so loud to his ears he grimaced in pain.

He did not hunger, nor was he thirsty. The weapons they had impaled him with now were part of his body. His regenerative powers had closed the wounds around them, fusing his flesh to the steel. Whatever might have happened to his innards, he didn’t want to know.

But Ardyn didn’t feel any pain anymore. The wounds had stopped bleeding, if bleeding was what he did. The black ichor his body oozed had dripped heavily to the rocky ground, scaring many of the soldiers charged with his chaining. Later, after they had blocked the entrance and darkness engulfed the cell, he sensed the slimy substance creeping back to his body and fusing with it.

He wept at first, and screamed, not for his guards to free him, but for the gods to strike him and deliver him from his suffering. He pleaded and prayed aloud, and raved until his throat was sore and his voice was but a whisper.

But the gods had turned their backs to him.

Then the ghosts came.

Bereft of his senses, his mind began to create what it couldn’t perceive. As days stretched into weeks, and the weeks into years, he began to see things and hear voices that weren’t there. He knew they couldn’t be real: Aera had died in his arms, and Somnus hadn’t deigned himself to move from the Palace, merely sending his underlings to carry out the sentence.

He knew the Somnus and the Aera he saw so often weren’t real, and yet they came to visit him. There were times when he was too weak to resist, and he indulged on memories of the woman he had loved. Other times, however, he screamed at the visions to leave him be.

Armored feet thundered inside his cell with a ruckus that pierced his eardrums. Now a blinding light hurt his eyes. He tried to grunt, but his throat was parched, and only a faint sound came out.

“He’s alive!” a man marveled as he approached him. Ardyn’s eyes took their time to adjust, and he saw a young man with silver hair slicked backwards. His was a cruel smile and a cruel laugh. “Just as the ancient texts told!”

Ancient texts? How much time had passed?

“Take him away!” he ordered.

Soldiers surrounded him, prying at his chains. They wore strange livery and even stranger weapons. Did they not use swords anymore?

His confused thoughts were interrupted when they dislodged the weapons out of his body. He tried to scream, but his voice failed him. Two soldiers hauled him by the arms and walked him out of his cell.

Trying to move his legs was pure agony, after not sensing them for so long. He finally found his voice and whimpered, and begged them to stop, but no one would listen to him.

When they stepped out, he saw that it was night time, and the moon was high on the sky. Other soldiers escorted them on their way down that slope, through the rocky.

“Don’t touch me…” he murmured, but no one would heed his pleas.

He heard disembodied voices, telling each other that everything was fine, and they talked something about a medical team.

Suddenly the voices cut and the soldiers started screaming and use their strange weapons. He fell to the ground when the soldiers carrying him were killed.

Other soldiers, these ones dressed in black, attacked them.

“Adagium sighted!” screamed one of them.

“Get it back in the cell,” screamed other. “No matter what! We can’t let that thing off this island!”

They were talking about him. One of them lunged at him with a long sword and cut Ardyn on the stomach. He doubled up in pain, but the wound closed.

“Stop,” he begged. “Cease this…”

The strange soldier cut him again.

“Cease this at once!”

Black mist erupted from his body as rage boiled inside him. A dark-clad soldier warped towards him, much like he and his brother could do thanks to the gods’ powers. Ardyn’s hands were bare, but he deflected the soldier and sent him flying.

He felt the rain now pattering on his naked back. It was cold, and made the rocky ground slippery. He wanted to go back to his tomb. Why did they disturb him? What did they want from him?

Extending his hand, he willed his old sword, and it appeared with a red flash of light.

More soldiers came and he fought them, killing every single one. His uniforms were strange, and Ardyn couldn’t identify them, but he no longer cared.

The last enemy stood in front of him. He didn’t last long before Ardyn wounded him, yet he didn’t kill the soldier right away. While the man was on the ground, Ardyn pinned him with his bare hands.

“For what sins must I atone!?” he screamed to his face.

But from his hands black mist surged and enveloped the soldier, who screamed in pain and terror as the miasma consumed him.

Images flashed in Ardyn’s mind: A city of crystal and steel; strange roads which were black and soft; people, many people coming and going, all clad in strange clothes; a row of soldiers standing at attention before their king.

And, along with the images, names appeared and became part of his memory: Insomnia, Lucis, Mors Lucis Caelum, 112th descendant of the Founder King, Somnus Lucis Caelum.

 _“These memories are not my own… could they be_ his _?”_

When he opened his eyes the soldier was a blackened, formless mass, with particles swirling over him. He looked at his hands in horror. He had spent his life absorbing the Scourge, now he bestowed it.

How could this happen?

More importantly, what world had he been thrust in?

_Descendants. Somnus. Founder King._

“Incredible!” someone exulted behind him.

Ardyn turned around, to see the silver haired man gazing at him with a euphoric expression.

“His power’s unbelievable!”

He felt a surge of terror towards that man. No one should react that way before the Scourge. The glint on those blue eyes was all too familiar to Ardyn: That man burned with covetousness for his powers.

Ardyn had seen that expression before, in his own flesh and blood, when he showed how he could cure the Scourge.

He tried to move, but the world sun around him before darkness took him.

“Hey!” he heard the man screaming through his fading senses.


	48. Illusory Truth

**APPENDIX: EPISODE ARDYN  
**

**CHAPTER 2 – ILLUSORY TRUTH**

The breeze in that summer afternoon carried an unnatural chilliness, as if from early autumn.

He approached the old tree. Everything seemed the same, but the air was heavy with dread. Aera’s white dress stood out against the dark trunk as she stood there, waiting for him, as she had done so many times before. But now she didn’t smile back at him.

 _“Why does she look so sad?”_ he thought.

Her eyes looked over his shoulder and past him, her expression clouded with worry. Following her gaze, Ardyn saw with alarm how Somnus walked out of the wheat field, sword in hand.

“Forgive me, Brother,” he said, a cruel smirk playing on his lips. “But the throne seats only one!”

Somnus slashed at him, but Aera stepped in between and she was cut down instead. Ardyn screamed, kneeling and holding her while she writhed in agony. Dark particles swirled around his body and Aera’s until they engulfed both.

He woke with a jolt, to see a grey, plain ceiling over his head.

Cold sweat drenched his brow as he tried to catch his breath. Just a nightmare. But it had been the same one ever since he had been “rescued”.

**“Ardyn Izunia, Chief Besithia would like to see you.”**

He sighed, being now used to the disembodied voices which filled the modern world.

Two millennia had gone by. Everything was alien to him.

What in the world was he doing there?

He had learned about Insomnia, about Somnus’ great kingdom and how it prospered. Of course he would have wanted to get back at his brother, but he was long dead. Everyone who ever either brother had already died and turned to dust so, to whom shall he prove his innocence?

Months had gone by in that grey place, the “research facility”, as they called it, and some days he missed his cell. At least there he could be alone with his hallucinations, which he could will away whenever he grew tired of them. But in the facility he had to endure the endless hours alone, knowing that there were humans at the other side of the walls to whom he couldn’t engage in conversation, for they beheld him with a mixture of awe and fear. And when he wasn’t alone he had the company of that Besithia man and his endless prattling.

He couldn’t decide which attitude irked him the most, until he realized that both were sides from the same coin: He was a rarity, a monster.

That day Ardyn missed his dark confinement more than ever. The nightmares had gotten worse, since he turned that man into a daemon. It had been days since he could get proper sleep, and now the visions assaulted him during naps.

He got up slowly from the bed. His movements were sluggish out of mental weariness. Grimacing, his hand tore at the garment they had given him. It was rough and too tight on the chest. How modern people could move with clothes like that was a mystery to him. And let’s not get started with the “shoes”. How he missed his old sandals!

He looked at the room around him. It was bigger than the hovels his people used to live in. Rows of books and other information sources lined up in shelves along the walls. These people not only stored knowledge on paper, but also on image and sound. It took a bit for him to get used to those things: seeing people who weren’t there, some of them not alive anymore, that was something he couldn’t have even imagined back in his time.

His eyes lingered on the small table at the corner he used for eating and relaxing. Remains of a half-eaten supper lain, already cold, on a plate. At its side, however, were several empty bottles of wine, all from the previous evening.

Now he couldn’t even get drunk, try as he might.

“Might as well head out,” he sighed.

He followed the hallway to where the Chief awaited, almost shivering from the coldness that the facility’s ambient elicited on him. Everything in the modern world was about steel, perfect angles and smooth surfaces. He wasn’t made for that, but for stone, mortar and wood, and the crackling of a hearth during cold nights.

There were soldiers patrolling the hallways, and Ardyn wondered why even bother. The facility sat atop a permafrost mountain range. If anyone dared braving the elements and survive, they deserved a price, not a shooting.

The Chief waited for him in an expensively decorated room, sitting at a dinner table. He had visited that room some times, whenever the Chief wanted to discuss anything with him, or had any discovery to disclose.

“Come. Have a seat,” Verstael gestured to him.

Ardyn occupied the chair next to Besithia. No matter the luxuries, he still felt as if he was caged; only his prison now was a whole world instead of a cell. He knew he had to endure another of this man’s ravings yet again, but today there was food served at the table.

Upon arrival, they had asked him what he wanted to eat, and he had told them. He wasn’t hungry, but he didn’t want to aggravate his hosts. They had catered to his every need, even if he didn’t have _needs_ anymore. He ate, lay on his bed and tended to his body needs in an attempt to reclaim a sliver of his former life. There was no use. He has started to suspect that the Scourge had something to do with it, and Verstael’s tests had corroborated it.

He sat in silence while the Chief ate with pleasure. Noticing that there was a service laid for him, Ardyn looked at the dishes before him and fought back a grimace of what he thought was disgust, but could have been frustration. None of them he could identify as _food_ , so evenly cut and perfectly arranged in the plates they were. It seemed like whoever was in charge of the food had a compulsive need to arrange everything in a geometrical pattern, in the hopes that the design could make up for its lack of taste. Only the bread buns, piled on a basket near him, seemed like something he could bite without fearing they were a piece of decoration.

Nevertheless, Ardyn put his hands together, and quietly prayed.

“Gods above,” he murmured. “We thank you for the bounty you have laid before us…”

“Don’t you want your food getting cold, do you?” Verstael interrupted.

Ardyn raised his hand, and the man fell silent. When Ardyn was done, he kept talking.

“Are you enjoying your stay?” the Chief asked.

“No,” Ardyn said, all care about politeness long forgotten.

“You’ve been asleep for years. Learning to appreciate the waking world will take time. Perhaps I can help enlighten you while we dine.”

“What is this food?” Ardyn asked, making a tired motion with his hand towards the table.

“Meat, cloned in this facility.”

“ _Cloned_?”

Then the Chief went on a tirade about _cells_ and _transplants_ and other babble as he gesticulated. Ardyn didn’t understand the barrage of technicalities, but meat wasn’t _grown_ , that much he knew. You hunted animals or reared them and then you sacrificed them, that was how it was done.

“Enough,” Ardyn said wearily. Beyond the barrier of obscure terms he sensed there was something blasphemous and repulsive going on in that place. It was enough to make him feel sick. “I have no ears for the ramblings of a lunatic.”

That was the only one he saw the Chief vexed. To smooth things out, he changed the subject.

“Was your examination of me a fruitful one?”

Verstael’s eyes lighted up.

“Oh, yes,” he said with enthusiasm. “You’ve proven far more fascinating than expected. No wonder they kept you locked away. To think the powers of a daemon could dwell within the heart of a man. It’s incredible! The Starscourge doesn’t sap your life force. It gives you more! Your cells can regenerate themselves, and you can daemonify other life forms as well. There’s no doubt. You are-”

“A monster,” Ardyn finished for him.

“Not a monster. A _marvel_ ,” then Verstael laughed. It was the cruel laugh of a madman. “I can’t wait to unravel all your mysteries.”

“How long has it been since you brought me here?”

“Two hundred and four days. Roughly seven months or so.”

Ardyn took a piece of bread. Perhaps he could try nibbling at it while he heard the Chief droning away.

“Then again,” Besithia continued. “The Lucians had you locked away in that prison for nearly two millennia. I’d be more surprised if you _hadn’t_ lost any concept of time,” then he added with a malicious grin: “You must loathe those Lucians for what they did to you.”

Ardyn dropped the untouched bread back on the plate. Suddenly not even the bread could entice him anymore.

“What is it you want from me, anyhow? What about me interests you so?”

“You said it yourself, didn’t you? You were chosen by the gods. And, frankly, with powers like yours, I’d say you’re nearly a god in your own right. We need those powers that you possess. With our strength on our side, we could finally put an end to the gruesome war with Lucis. You, too, must desire the fall of the kingdom that cast you into exile?”

Ardyn got up from his chair rather abruptly, wishing more than ever he could go back to his dark cell, with no knowledge of politics, wars and other miseries humans were so fond of. His world had turned to ashes long ago and no one remembered him. What was the point of him existing in such a place?

“My desires are all in the past,” he grumbled.

“The man who wronged you may have died long ago,” Verstael insisted, as Ardyn walked towards the door. “But his descendants live on to this day. Surely you must bear them some feeling of ill will?”

He had heard enough fawners during his days at court to recognize one. Ardyn shot Besithia a dark glance as he turned around.

“My feelings are none of your concern,” he hissed.

But the man seemed immune to his mounting anger. He also got up and went to the door.

“Follow me,” he said.

Reluctantly, Ardyn did, swallowing his fleeting anger, until they arrived at an enormous, darkened room.

“This is the fruit of my labor,” Verstael said. “A small portion of it, that is.”

He turned the lights on, and Ardyn saw that there were many things on display there.

“I envy you,” the Chief said as they walked in. “A human life is too short to truly understand all there is to know about the world.”

The things he had collected were all about the History of the world and of Lucis, especially that of the Caelum lineage. And a disturbing number of research reports about the Scourge. This man seemed obsessed with that disease.

“Fascinating, isn’t it?” Verstael said, puffing his narrow chest with pride. “I pored over the ancient texts and found scarcely a mention of you. I barely believed you existed till I saw you with my own eyes. With your help, my research is proceeding smoothly. You have my thanks.”

Then he signaled him to follow him again.

“There’s something you should see. Come with me.”

There was another door at the other side of the room, with stairs that lead to a level below.

“If my experiment on this specimen succeeds, it might provide the information you’ve been looking for.”

The Chief opened a door and Ardyn saw an enormous window panel. Beyond, a gigantic, humanoid male form lay dormant while tubes poured blue mist over him.

He recognized the form of the sleeping giant. The scars from the wounds Bahamut gave him, the crown around the horns…

“Is that…?”

“Ifrit, the Infernian,” Verstael said with pride.

“You subjugated a god… and brought him here?” Ardyn felt appalled at the heresy.

“He was sound asleep, just like the legends said he’d be, so we put him on ice. Do you think you could turn him?”

“Into a daemon?”

“If you manage to daemonify a deity, you could learn truths no mere mortal could ever dream knowing. You’ll access two thousand years of his memories, and, if you can control him, he’ll be a weapon of supreme power. It’s certainly an enticing offer, isn’t it? Just think. You could exact sweet revenge through divine retribution!”

Ardyn had turned away from Verstael as the man kept talking. He felt the bile rising, and he felt unable to face a human which suddenly appeared extremely repulsive to him. But, that man suggesting to use a deity, not to further Ardyn’s plans, but to win a war for a country he knew nothing about, nor he wanted anything to do with… He turned around, his brows knit in anger.

“How do you know what I want?”

“I don’t,” said the scientist, unfazed by Ardyn’s menacing glare. “But I know you have no other options,” he walked past him, towards the entrance of the cage. “Well, shall we? Come see the fruits of my magitek research.”

As they walked down, the Chief went on a tirade about Solheim, the civilization which preceded Ardyn’s. In recent times it had been uncovered that Solheim had flourished thanks to the magiteknology, but came down once they incurred the wrath of the gods.

This man wanted to surpass Solheim, and to uncover all the secrets of the Scourge. And that was why he needed Ardyn’s help, saying that magitek and daemons were the keys to a new future.

They stepped out into a big room when Ardyn felt something. A black-clad warrior of Lucis warped just in front of them.

“Lucians!” Verstael exclaimed. “But how!?”

More warriors appeared, and all reported their companions about having sighted the _Adagium_.

“So, you’ve come to kill me, have you?” Ardyn snarled.

“Or die trying,” said the woman he had before him.

More warriors appeared behind him. Verstael ran away to hide in a corner.

They were all clad in black, just as his brother had been. They were all smiling at him, just as Somnus did that day. In fact, they all looked very similar to him.

Ardyn then saw the same cold, blue eyes, and the same cruel smile. The same black hair.

All the soldiers bore Somnus’ face, and they spoke with his voice.

“Just as you would kill me,” they all said in a chorus. “Right, Brother? Well, I’m afraid to say you’ll never know the satisfaction of taking my life. I’m already dead, and have been for some time. Though I might be gone, my legacy lives on in Lucis! It lives on in the minds and hearts of the soldiers before you. What sort of legacy have _you_ left behind, Brother?”

Ardyn lashed with his sword at the phantoms around him and they all disappeared in a cacophony of screams.

Was he alone? No, more Lucian soldiers appeared. One instant they were soldiers, but the next they transformed into Somnus, and his voice pierced his mind.

_A kingdom you can no longer call your own._

He fought the phantoms. The more he killed, the more soldiers appeared to torment him.

_While you were lost in slumber, I was busy building a kingdom!_

_Perhaps you ought to sleep away your sadness._

He grabbed one by the throat and turned the soldier into a daemon. The soldier dissipated into a black cloud as he absorbed his memories, very like the first man he had turned.

_You monster!_

One tried to wound him but he feinted and skewed him with his blade.

_I hope you know it’s your fault Aera is dead._

He turned another turned soldier, and he felt the power entering his body.

_That girl proved your undoing, you know._

_You were caught up in your idealized delusions to save your beloved!_

_You deserve to wander the darkness for all time!_

_Mankind ill needs a savior such as you!_

There was an explosion. The Lucians had damaged the pipes pumping the refrigeration into Ifrit’s cage, and the Infernian woke up.

Pieces of concrete and metal flew as Ifrit tore down his prison walls, fierce flames erupting on his wake. No trace of the peaceful repose remained on his face, now contorted with fury. He spoke, and when he did, all humans only heard strange sounds, except for Ardyn, whose mind resonated with the words of the Infernian.

 **“You mortals make a mockery of a god”** Ifrit thundered. **“Such insolence!”**

“We must stop him before he destroys everything!” Verstael screamed, running for the entrance.

Now the battle was between the humans and Ifrit, who swung his sword like a tempest of fire. The Lucians were soon dead, and Ardyn saw himself grabbed by the giant hand of the god.

 **“What is a man of House Caelum doing here?”** he boomed.

“O Infernian,” Ardyn gasped. “Grant me the power to take Somnus, his people, and his cursed kingdom,” he raised his right hand and put it on Ifrit’s arm. “And burn them all to the ground!”

The god screamed in agony as the Scourge corrupted his body. At the same time, Ardyn’s mind was assaulted by two millennia of knowledge and memories, just as Verstael had predicted.

He saw everything: The creation, humans gathering around the first flame Ifrit bestowed upon them, Solheim and its glory, the hubris they grew in their hearts, and Ifrit wanting to destroy them. War between the Six. The world torn asunder.

Ifrit dropped him.

 **“Fool!”** the Infernian, now on all fours, gasped. **“You dare to subjugate the divine!?”**

The god disappeared into a flock of lights which entered Ardyn’s body, as a sign that he had obtained Ifrit’s power.

At that moment, Ardyn had more visions. He saw the Crystal. Aera praying. A face being shown.

It was him.

“I was the one chosen to be king…?”

For two millennia he firmly believed that the gods had actually chosen Somnus. In his mind, Aera had surely favored him out of love, and the gods had punished them both for their trickery. That was why he had to endure his penance, he convinced himself. The gods wouldn’t let an innocent suffer unjustly.

That was what he had been taught, until he learned what Ifrit knew. That he had been the Chosen, and his brother had been the one to go against the gods’ will. Why was Ardyn punished, then?

He was again in the wheat field, but it was dark. He heard Aera voice, calling for him. Her voice, however, wasn’t beckoning, but anguished. He hurried to where the sound came, and saw her on the ground, crying.

Ardyn staggered to her side and took her in his arms. Why? Why was she so sad?

“Forgive me,” she said in tears. “I defied the will of the gods and revealed to Somnus you had been chosen to be king. I never dreamt he would try to kill you.”

“But he did,” he said, realizing the extent of his brother’s treason. “Somnus fooled everyone so he could usurp the throne. Everything that happened, it’s all his fault!”

“No!” she exclaimed, sitting upright. “Listen to me! It’s _my_ fault. I’m the one who ruined your future! This was divine retribution for my sins!”

He grabbed her shoulders.

“You’ve no sins to atone for!”

Then he cradled her again, and raised his face to the heavens.

“Gods!” he called. “Answer me! Why have you burdened us with this fate!?”

Aera then screamed and writhed in his arms. The Scourge had infected her.

“No! Aera, please!”

He tried to conjure a curative spell, but more black mist passed onto her body. He tried a revivify spell, putting his brow against hers, and she shoved him away, making him fall on his back.

“In the names of the gods above…” she pledged, half rising. “Fulfill your calling, Ardyn, and punish me for my sins!”

Ardyn sat down slowly, to see that there was a dagger on his hand.

“Aera…”

“Kill me!”

He heard footsteps behind him.

“That’s right! Kill her!” said his brother, gazing mockingly at the woman from over Ardyn’s shoulder. “Put that monster out of its misery, just like I did.”

The miasma started to consume her. Black particles spread out of her body already as she writhed in pain and screamed. He raised the dagger with both hands, ready to plunge it on her body. Better to die a human than being put down as a monster.

His hands stopped as his eyes locked with hers. He remembered the love he had read into those blue eyes, her warm words of encouragement. He now saw her suffering and her pain. Those were the eyes of the countless infected he had healed.

He shook his head, slowly lowering the dagger.

“I… I can’t. My calling is to _save_ lives, not take them,” he said weakly.

A heartless laughter exploded behind him.

“Just like you _saved_ that innocent man by turning him into a daemon?” Somnus said, leaning on his shoulder.

“Please, Ardyn…” Aera implored. “You must live…”

“I can’t… Not without you…”

He didn’t notice the hands guiding his own until it was too late.

“Come,” said his brother. “Why not give the lady what she wants?”

Ardyn resisted just in time. He wrestled and grunted, but Somnus had grabbed the blade and intended to make him stab Aera. Since when Somnus had grown so strong?

His strength failed, in the end, and the blade sunk in Aera’s throat. Instead of blood, miasma poured out of the wound.

“Once again,” Somnus gloated. “You failed to save her. No surprise. A monster can do naught but destroy.”

His brother’s laughter echoed in his ears for a long time until it faded away. Ardyn was now alone, since both Somnus and Aera’s body had disappeared.

Ardyn felt his heart swelling with wrath and hatred. It was like a wildfire, consuming everything inside him, every memory, and every thought. Slowly, he got to his feet, his whole body shaking with rage.

“I’ll never forgive you, Somnus,” he growled his brother’s name, as if it burned his tongue. “This monster may not be able to destroy you, but I’ll see to it that I destroy everything you built!”

With a scream, he unleashed a blast of dark energy. He was no longer in the wheat field, but back at the lab.

“Hear me, gods above!” he proclaimed with firm voice. “No longer shall I supplicate you for pardon. No longer shall I sojourn toward the light. Nay… the path I intend to tread is paved with blood and darkness. No longer shall I seek your guidance. This path is mine to tread… alone.”

He extended his arms as the miasma took over his body, and he laughed: The laugh of a madman, which resonated in the entire facility.

On the ground, discarded, the dagger used to kill Aera, which Ardyn would take and carry with him from that day.


	49. A Fiery Vengeance

**APPENDIX: EPISODE ARDYN  
**

**CHAPTER 3 – A FIERY VENGEANCE**

_The empire’s daemonic experiments bore fruit before long, precipitating the production of a magitek infantry._

_As recognition for his contribution to this research, Ardyn Izunia was inaugurated as imperial chancellor._

_Thanks to its newfound firepower, Niflheim managed to break the stalemate that shackled the nation for more than a hundred years, and, in turn, forced Lucis to scale back its magical barrier._

_The untimely passing of King Mors ushered in the era of a new monarch, and the young Regis Lucis Caelum succeeded the throne._

_Meanwhile, Ardyn began to spread the Starscourge throughout the world, stealing people’s memories and learning as much about the kingdom as he could. In time, those memories began to merge with his own, gradually transforming him into a wicked echo of his formed self. And, eventually, at long last, the time for his revenge came._

**xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx**

The taxi cruised smoothly along the tunnel leading to the main square. The driver hadn’t inquired why a soldier, of all people, would take a cab instead of one of the official vehicles, but he was no one to question those things. Instead, he focused on the newscaster’s voice and she went through the war reports.

_“Tension between the two countries remains high, with neither nation showing signs of backing down. In other news, a member of the border patrol has been reported MIA since sometime before dawn this morning. The missing officer has been identified as 28-year-old Mars Sapientia. Although Officer Sapientia allegedly reported for duty at his appointed time, fellow officers say he disappeared soon after and has not been sighted since.”_

Without the driver noticing, the soldier tried to wipe away the blood on the id with the name Mars Sapientia on it pinned to his uniform.

_“Officer Sapientia is a tall, fair-skinned male and was last seen wearing his border patrol fatigues.”_

They went out of the tunnel and the sunlight blinded him. It was a good thing that he had his skin fully covered, even with the guise of the soldier.

One of the powers he had discovered when he was turning people and beasts was his ability to make himself look like others, provided that he had, at least, taken a look at them. This soldier, Mars Sapientia, had been an easy prey. Posing as a traveler, Ardyn had approached the guard and turned him, leaving only a blackened husk that became dust in the wind. Along with his appearance, he gained the knowledge of all the streets and the security measures during the Founder’s Festival.

He nearly laughed at the thought. _Founder’s Festival_ , which commemorated the day Somnus founded Insomnia, his city.

How he would enjoy wreaking havoc and ruining this day!

_“Anyone with information on Officer Sapientia’s whereabouts are requested to contact the Crown City Police immediately.”_

The streets leading to the main avenue were bustling with people. Not only those who wanted to attend the festival but also those who went on with their daily routines.

_“And, now, a word from the Public Information Bureau: Today marks the anniversary of the founding of the Kingdom of Lucis. The Founder’s Day committee had prepared a number of attractions in honor of this auspicious occasion, including a parade around the Citadel as well as a statue of the Founder King himself. All are welcome and encouraged to participate in today’s festivities.”_

They had arrived. Banners and other paraphernalia adorned the streets. People which happy faces here and there. Such a stark contrast with the world outside.

“What about you?” asked the driver, turning around to receive his money. “Shouldn’t you be lookin’ for your buddy?”

He had been a good driver, not saying a word until now.

“Oh, no,” said Ardyn. “I’m on special assignment.”

That wasn’t a lie, per se. He paid, thanked the driver and got off the car and into the street. His disguise was perfect, and after everything was said and done, they wouldn’t be able to find the culprit. Sapientia’s memory would be soiled and his family disgraced, but the innocent are always bound to suffer in any conflict, aren’t they?

“Home sweet home at last,” he said aloud.

A voice announced the parade about to start through the various speakers installed along the streets.

“So this is the city Somnus built,” Ardyn looked around at the neatly arrayed buildings of crystal and steel. “Built on the back of his own flesh and blood.”

The Citadel stood ahead, a single ray of light shooting upward, the source of power for the Wall. His steps brought him through the crowd, gathered in wait for the parade.

“Just look at them, free of care and unaware of the war beyond their Wall,” he murmured. “What need is there to worry when brick and mortar blinds them to the suffering outside? Why venture out into the world when you feel so safe within? What a life to live.”

To his left, people crowded around a life-size statue of an imposing armored knight. The plaque below assured the viewer that it was the Founder King himself. Ardyn had to suppress a laugh when he saw the many artistic licenses the sculptor had taken. Not even his _dear_ brother, so prone to harp about his own exploits, could have described himself in such an heroic way.

He mingled with the crowd; a father and a son talked merrily about the little kid’s desire to be a royal guard when he was older. Ardyn smiled back at him when he noticed the child’s bright eyes on him: To everyone, he was still Mars Sapientia.

Stepping further, he stopped. This place would do. Raising his hand, he invoked Ifrit.

“Now, let the fireworks begin!” he bellowed.

Nothing happened.

He looked around him, looking for any sign of the Infernian. People ignored him, thinking that he was a man who had drunk too much, far too early in the morning. Some older women eyed him sternly: Such deplorable attitude for a soldier!

“Oh dear…”

People started screaming in the distance, a few blocks ahead of them. The royal guards rushed where the commotion came from, and Ardyn saw the gigantic form of Ifrit slowly walking out of a side street.

“Oh, cursed be the wavering whims of the gods.”

With a swept of his arm, Ifrit conjured flames that turned soldiers and civilians around him into ashes.

That was more like it.

Somnus descendants would die screaming, while their ancestor watched helplessly as Ardyn leveled the city.

Summoning his sword, Ardyn destroyed the nearby speakers, blaring emergency messages. Banners were torn and other adornments destroyed. This was fun!

With his growing powers, the ones bestowed to him by the gods had also changed. Now instead of warping, he could choose to instantly travel around short distances like a shadow. He did so and landed on the roof on one of those tall buildings. One of the soldiers he had robbed of his memories had knowledge about electronics. It was a matter of seeking a transmitter station and hacking it.

“Testing,” he said, as Officer Sapientia’s face appeared on the big screens. “1-2-3. Is this thing on? Greetings, people of the Kingdom of Lucis! Do forgive me for interrupting the festivities, but I must tell you this day of rapturous revelry shall be your last. Call it _divine retribution_. False kings and fraudulent nations are fated to perish. Sins of the past must not go unpunished. The time of reckoning is at hand! And today you shall die on behalf of your forebears! Resist, if you wish, but know you’re your fight against fate is a foolish and futile one.”

That would suffice, he thought, to lure the King out of his shell.

“Well,” he said, stepping into the void and landing on top of a lamppost. “Time to set to work.”

One of the things he had taken from Sapientia was his radio. That way he could know what the royal guard would be up to. Right at that moment the guards were in disarray, and they were trying to respond to the attack, but with no knowledge of who was perpetrating it. Someone who called himself Clarus declared a code red and issued orders to all the guards.

“Every word, clear as day,” Ardyn murmured as he hacked a guard in two. “The wonders of technology!”

He had another modern gizmo, this one from the empire, from which he received his orders. He was supposed to create a distraction and wait for Verstael’s instructions to bring down the Wall. Meanwhile, he could do as he pleased.

However, he was a bit disappointed that Lucian soldiers were so weak. He had expected more of Somnus’ descendants, but that’s what you have when you huddle behind a wall and ignore the outside world: you turn soft.

 _“Sir,”_ came a panicked voice through the radio. _“We’ve identified the giant! It’s the Infernian… Ifrit, the Infernian!”_

 _“And Astral?”_ Captain Clarus echoed.

_“Yes, sir. One of our officers seems to be controlling the Infernian, but we can’t get an ID on him.”_

Ardyn chuckled. Keep searching, idiot.

_“What!? Find our who he is at once!”_

The plaza was cleaned up in no time. His imperial radio crackled into life.

 _“There seems to be some kind of disturbance,”_ Verstael told him. _“What’s going on?”_

“Why, whatever do you mean?” Ardyn exclaimed, feigning innocence.

Verstael sighed, already guessing what Ardyn was doing in the city.

_“Now, I need you to locate and destroy the devices amplifying the Wall.”_

“As you wish. Just sit back and enjoy the show.”

He had also been provided with a small portable screen where he could see the map of the city. Red dots appeared in several places, signaling the points where the amplifiers were.

_“I’ve marked the location of all the devices they’re using to amplify the Wall. They seem to be positioned on rooftops around the city. Find them and destroy them.”_

“With pleasure. I’ll be sure to keep you abreast of my progress. Heh, no rest for the wicked.”

He found the first of the devices. It was heavily guarded, but the soldiers were no match of him. However, there was a stone guardian, in the shape of another king of ancient times, another descendant of Somnus. That guardian did prove a bit of a challenge, but in the end it crumbled in dust and miasma, as Ardyn had used his powers against it, just to test if the Scourge would affect these guardians.

“Most interesting. It seems they’ve another line of defense waiting to deploy.”

The Wall amplifier died down, and the defenses were a bit weaker. That Clarus boy was now guessing it could be an attack from Niflheim. Sharp as a tack, that one.

Ardyn traveled to another point, destroying all the decorations he could find along the way.

Another amplifier, and another guardian destroyed. From this one he learned something very valuable: that in times of crisis they called forth the Kings of Yore to help defend Insomnia. Perhaps he could use that to see his beloved brother one more time.

“Things are going swimmingly,” he told Verstael through the radio.

_“Wonderful. Here’s hoping you can continue unimpeded.”_

The guards tried to stop him, but they were nothing more than a nuisance.

“The king must be in his castle,” he said to himself, as another amplifier fell. “Never fear, Your Majesty. I’m on my way.”

To the imperial radio he said: “Almost done. How does it look?”

_“Quite promising. We should be able to break through the barrier with a well-timed assault. You ought to evacuate, lest you get caught in the crossfire.”_

“Yes, but there’s something I must attend to first. I’ve got a king to kill.”

_“What? That wasn’t part of the plan!”_

“I finished my work; now it’s time to play.”

_“But we-”_

“No _buts_. You just stick to your plan and keep the boys in black busy for me.”

He cut the communication. He had seen the king’s face in the memories of the soldiers.

“Now, off to see His Majesty who lives in the house that Somnus built.”

Through the radio, he could heard the voice of that Captain Clarus talking with the king about all the amplifiers having being destroyed and the imperial forces beginning their infiltration. The king decided to go into combat, despite his captain’s protests.

Ardyn reached the Citadel’s gates.

“Oh, my. What big walls you have! All the better to look down upon his enslaved subjects from,” he said, pushing the ironwork gates open. “Time to call in a favor with the king and have him summon my beloved brother.”

When he stepped in the plaza, a lone man was walking towards him. That was the King, if those soldiers’ memories were correct. Only, this time, he wasn’t smiling kindly like in the memories. His face was set on a grim gesture.

“Something wrong, officer?” the king asked him. Of course, Ardyn still hadn’t dropped his disguise.

“Ah, you must be His Majesty.”

“I’m pleased to make your acquaintance,” the king said, although unsure of what the man in front of him wanted. “Why are you here?”

“Why, for you!”

Ardyn summoned his Arminger and launched his weapons at the king, who reacted quickly and did the same. The two stood like that, each set of weapons pointed at the other.

“The Royal Arms!” the king exclaimed. “Who are you!?”

“You ought to know, being a man of royal blood yourself.”

The king gasped, suddenly understanding.

“Adaguim!”

“In the flesh,” Ardyn laughed. “Here to bring the bloodline of Lucis to an end!”

Regis warped away from Ardyn’s weapons and the battle started.

“Hear me, Adagium! On my honor as king, I will vanquish you!”

“Oh dear. What an awful thing to say to your own flesh and blood.”

King Regis was decidedly stronger than his men, but not enough to kill Ardyn. Nevertheless, he had to put everything he had on the fight.

“This monster must be contained…” the king said. “He’s too dangerous! He must be stopped!”

“Must I?” Ardyn mocked him. “Really? By whom, may I ask?”

The king had to dodge a hail of darts coming from Ardyn’s crossbow.

“What a shame. I expected more from a legendary king of Lucis.”

Regis warped out of reach and summoned his own weapons, which orbited around him.

“Well, I would certainly hate to disappoint!”

His defense boosted, Regis assaulted Ardyn with all his strength, but his enemy called Ifrit into the combat. The Infernian flames forced Regis to retreat further and only attack using his warping abilities.

“Are you all right?” Ardyn mocked him. “You’re beginning to look the worse for wear.”

“No worse than you will once I’ve sealed you away for good!”

“Ah, youth. So confident and yet to misguided.”

More attacks followed, and not even the magic shield Regis conjured protected him. In the end, Ardyn had the pleasure to see a look of disbelief and fear on the king’s face.

“Done already?” Ardyn asked with a soft voice when Regis fell to his knees, fighting to catch his breath. “But the fun’s just begun. Summon the Old Wall.”

He stood before the king. Clouds had gathered over them while they fought and now it was raining.

“How do you know about that?”

Ardyn kicked his chest, sending him flying backwards.

“I’ve heard the souls of _kings_ reside within those statues. Of course, that’s only hearsay. Why not summon the Wall so we can see for ourselves?”

He spoke in a soft voice, while he kicked the king in his ribs.

“What I wouldn’t give for a chance to speak with the Founder King himself!”

Another kick, this one harder than the others, and he turned around.

“Come out, Somnus!” he called to the heavens. “The longer you wait, the longer he’ll suffer!”

He stomped on the body, and Regis gave a grunt before finally laying limp.

“Uh? Is he dead?” Ardyn wondered, lifting Regis’ left hand and letting it fall to the ground. “Oh, dear. Perhaps I don’t know my own strength.”

At that moment, the Ring on Regis’ hand began to glow, making Ardyn shield his eyes. He smirked, feeling a presence.

“Well?” he said, turning to the street outside the gates. “I’m waiting!”

A ray of blue light pierced the air as a giant sword flew and cleaved the ground. After it, an armored statue warped.

“Brother!” the statue said.

“Somnus,” Ardyn said slowly, as if already tasting his brother’s defeat. Then he laughed. “Haven’t seen you for years… two thousand, in fact. And whose fault do you think that is?”

He warped and struck his brother. Somnus was powerful in that form, but also too bulky and slow.

“Who could have exiled me as a monster and erased me from the face of history?”

“You were tainted,” Somnus defended himself. “Unfit to sit the throne. Please, Brother. Return to the darkness whence you came.”

“Now?” Ardyn danced around his brother, and Somnus could not touch him. “But I’m having so much fun! To think I’d get the pleasure of killing you myself!”

Somnus doubled up in pain when Ardyn blasted him with dark energy.

“What’s wrong, _dear brother_? Too afraid to put down your expensive toy and come face me yourself? Let the game begin…”

“This is no beginning… only the end.”

Somnus threw a punch which Ardyn dodged easily.

“This is preposterous! How could one so impure possess such power!?”

Somnus blasted a ray of energy, but Ardyn shrugged it off with ease.

“I was right to have sealed you away. You truly are a monster, Brother.”

Ardyn laughed, letting Ifrit take part in the fight.

“Don’t be facetious. The only monster here is you!”

He conjured a whirlwind of dark energy. Somnus was too big in that form, however, but Ardyn saw how he was weakening.

“The gods blessed you as their chosen one,” Somnus lamented. “The people adored you as their savior. I was neither powerful nor popular… just envious, perhaps.”

“ _Perhaps_? Don’t make me laugh!”

“I yearned desperately to be special, yet I had nothing to set me apart. Nothing at all!”

“Until you stole it from me. You ripped it from my arms!”

Somnus summoned his sword and tried to cleave at Ardyn. He didn’t miss, but Ardyn’s wounds closed almost immediately.

“When I first donned the crown and put on the ring… When I first received my calling, I understood: That the daemons could not be allowed to remain in this world. That a sinner could not be allowed to sit the throne!”

“Lies! Fairy tales and fallacies, all of it!”

When Somnus fell to his knees, Ardyn called Ifrit forth.

“O Infernian, lend me your strength. Help me burn this wretched nation to the ground.”

Ifrit cleaved his curved sword into the ground and raised his hand. From Somnus’ feet flames sprouted, as high as the very statue and hot enough to make the metal from his armor glow white.

With that, Ardyn warped to Somnus’ face and struck, hard, with his sword, one final time.

The armor disappeared, and Ardyn saw the ghost of his brother, kneeling in defeat.

“What I did to you was unforgivable,” Somnus said, with an expression Ardyn had never seen on his younger brother: Contrition. “But I did it for the future of our kingdom… of our people.”

“A small sacrifice for the good of society. How noble!” Ardyn sneered.

“Our line had done everything in our power to protect our people, just as the gods bade,” Somnus pledged. “I was merely fulfilling my calling.”

Ardyn laughed bitterly.

“And here I thought _I_ was the blessed one, but it was you all along.”

“I dare not ask your forgiveness,” Somnus’ remorseful expression didn’t waver. That wasn’t what Ardyn expected. He had anticipated (wanted) to see hatred, wrath upon being defeated… not what he beheld at that moment. “But I do ask your understanding.”

“What!?”

An act of repentance two millennia later? Ardyn balled his fists in sheer fury, and his voice trembled as his words escaped through clenched teeth. He still had his brother’s smiling face and contemptuous words etched on his mind, just after he had murdered Aera.

“You took everything from me. EVERYTHING! And you ask for my understanding!?”

But Somnus’ face was that of regret, of sadness, which made it more infuriating for Ardyn.

“I pray your soul find repose, Brother,” he said as he faded away.

He felt his wrath welling up on his chest, until it escaped with a scream of pure rage and frustration.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to be! Somnus had to fall prey to desperation and fear, not _sorrow_. And what good would that make now? Aera’s senseless murder and two thousand years of confinement couldn’t be erased with a simple “I’m sorry, I was wrong”.

Decided to take his revenge, no matter what, he walked back to the Citadel where Regis still lain, unconscious, on the ground. If he couldn’t take Somnus down, he would erase his lineage.

His sword traced an arc over Regis body, but his arm stopped.

**Ardyn Lucis Caelum, I command thee to halt and kneel before me.**

A piercing pain erupted on his head as the voice filled all his being. A light shone on top of the plaza, and many gigantic swords of azure and gold fell, dispelling Ifrit.

He knew whose swords they were.

**On my honor as the Bladekeeper, Bahamut, I shall not let thee become a slayer of kings**

There it was, the giant draconic armor descending from the heavens.

Everything became blurred and, when Ardyn could adjust his vision, he wasn’t in Insomnia anymore. The space looked like neither the sea nor the sky, and he couldn’t tell up from down.

“Why…?” he asked the giant armor looming before him. “Why do the gods deny me my revenge!?”

**Because thou hast been chosen to serve a different purpose. To spread darkness throughout the world is thy true calling.**

“Darkness…?”

**Soon, the True King will be born unto Lucis. He shall lead the people as their beacon of hope and drive away the darkness. In turn, thou shalt be his sacrifice… the limitless shadow that ushers in the light.**

“Why I must continue to suffer? Have I not already sacrificed enough!?”

**When the True King awakens, summoning the power of his forebears, he shall at last relieve thee of thy suffering. Then, the line of Lucis shall come to an end, and the revenge thou sleekest shall finally be found. So it is ordained, and so shall it be.**

Everything had been orchestrated by the gods, up to the last detail? Even him becoming a daemon?

“You say,” he slowly said, with his voice trembling from anger. “I am not the savior of man, but his sacrificial lamb. And that I only live to die by the hand of the heir of an ill-gotten throne. _That_ is the fate the gods have chosen to bestow upon me!?”

**The very same. Defy thy destiny if thou dare, but know that it would grant thee a life of darkness unending, devoid of death’s reprieve. What say thee, Adagium?**

Everything had been orchestrated. Everything. Even Aera’s death, or maybe that was only a side effect that they could go with? What were humans to gods, then?

If that was true, then what was the meaning of all the suffering he had seen? All the people he had saved, but also all those he couldn’t help in time, transformed into daemons, twisted into abominations. If he, Ardyn, had been bestowed with spreading darkness now, why did they make him cure the Scourge at all?

Bahamut had shackled him, but also held the key, dangling like a carrot in front of an animal.

Ardyn knew he could deny Bahamut but, what good could become out of it?

He was tired, so tired. Bahamut had spoken, and his words were true. They had to be. If so, then his revenge had lost any meaning. His life didn’t have one, not even back in his time.

Yes, he could deny the god, and even kill Somnus’ descendants, to then continue an eternal existence devoid of any value, forever hosting a myriad of daemons, their voices forever echoing inside his head. Seeing the years, the centuries and the millennia go by, as humans were born, grew up and shriveled before his eyes without him being able to follow them.

There was no other option. It would take some more decades, but he would at last know peace.

He removed his hat and held it to his chest.

“Loath though I am to serve the shadows and surrender to the scion of a usurper, so long as it brings the royal bloodline to an end… So long as I get my revenge… I will submit.”

**As thou shouldst. The fate bestowed upon a man cannot be changed. Now go, fulfill your calling.**

Bahamut disappeared in a flash of light, leaving him alone. The hat dropped from his hand, as his breath came out in ragged gasps.

“Did you two know about this?” he asked the void. “That I was meant to serve as some sacrifice?”

He screamed at the void around him, hot tears running down his cheeks.

“Did you keep this from me, Aera? What about you, _dear brother_? Did you know!? Answer me!”

But his scream got lost in the infinity of the Crystal, for that was the place Bahamut had locked him in, the barrier between this world and the Beyond, that none of the Kings of Lucis would cross until the Scourge was dispelled. Ardyn was to be kept there each time he died, to be reformed and reborn again in the mortal world, until his calling was fulfilled.

Such was the will of the gods.

**xxxXX-0-XXxxx**

As his tears fell, he noticed that his surroundings had changed. He was kneeling on solid ground, and all around him there was darkness. His old cell in Angelgard.

“Am I alive?” he gasped. “Does it matter? Perhaps not.”

He slowly got on his feet and walked outside.

“Nothing matters… none of it. Not the _blessed_ gods above nor the accursed kings below. To hell with them all!”

The steps of his prison led him to the wheat field, where the warm breeze played with his ruffled hair. Somnus and Aera stood at a distance, talking under the tree, waiting for him.

“All that matters is I have my revenge. I will spread this scourge across the earth, lure out this _King of Light_ , and kill him.”

The memories he had cherished of his brother and his dear Aera turned to him, smiling, happy to see him. Such were the images that had appeared before him during his confinement. The others he dreamt about once he was free… he could only guess who had conjured them for him.

“Then, the entire world of Eos will be drenched in the darkness of despair for time eternal.”

He plunged the dagger into the bodies of the ghosts. No more shall he feel shackled by his past memories. He was a monster, and such creature needed neither a past nor a future. From that moment on, he would live only for his vengeance.

He laughed, as the wheat field blackened and the tree dried out with the taint of the Scourge.

**THE END.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it. The end of the journey. One year ago I started posting this fict, with no idea about how many people would read and like it, or if any at all. Al I can say to all of you who have accompanied me during this past, horrible year and have reached this point: Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. I hope you enjoyed this work as much as I did while writing it and, if it brought some joy or solace in any form, then my mission will be complete. We will see each other in other ficts, and maybe other fandoms.
> 
> Until then, walk tall, my friends.


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